


Tangled Webs

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Series: Tangled, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim learns that Blair's aversion to truth goes much deeper than he ever imagined as the two men struggle to build an even stronger relationship.<br/>This story is a sequel to Tangled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Webs

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit language and the discussion of rape and sexual abuse.

## Tangled Webs

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Title: Tangled Webs  
Author: Grey  
E-mail: Grey853@aol.com  
Rating: NC-17, for disturbing content, explicit sex, and language Pairing: J/B 

Status: New, Complete  
Date: July 21, 1998  
Archive: Yes to both, or link to my site Website: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Series/Sequel: Sequel to "Tangled" 

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, but tell them that. They just keep coming over to my house to tell stories. I just listen and jot it down. 

Summary: Jim learns that Blair's aversion to truth goes much deeper than he ever imagined as the two men fight against a series of setbacks to build an even stronger relationship. 

Author's Notes and Warnings: This story deals with disturbing subject matter. If discussion of sexual abuse and rape pushes a button, you might want to skip this one. To avoid getting lost, I would strongly recommend reading "Tangled" which can be found on the listed website. 

After all the wonderful feedback, I originally planned to write a few scenes to clear up the loose ends from the first story. See what happens when you say too many nice things? Restraint just goes out the window and Grey goes for more angst. 

Tangled Webs  
by Grey 

Jim lay quietly listening to the soft, even body sounds of the man beside him. Spooned in behind Blair's bare back, he nestled there, content in all the flood of warm sensations. For over two hours he'd indulged in a feast of delicious sensory images. 

Golden chestnut mixed with honey, strained to auburn, filtered through rising dusky light to shades brighter. They all thrilled him as they registered subtle plays of transparent transfused with opaque. Each single hair varied along its length in color and texture, coarse to fine, thin to thick, layered and spiraled with a spectrum of brown that fascinated and entranced. Along his guide's chest the hair took on a whole new aspect, more straight, more even, almost like fur, plush and dark, absorbing all light energy down to the skin. Blair never looked naked compared to Jim. 

Rich scent drifted up as the older man inhaled. He loved the thick saltiness as sweat mingled with the more demanding, heartier punch of oil. Blair's body smell included both of those plus musk and the ever changing essence of all the foods and drinks moving through his system. Natural soaps never neutralized completely the algae shakes, teas, or coffees he drank. Pineapple mixed with coconut, cinnamon and vanilla, bagels and cream cheese, tube steaks and Italian dinners, all swirled together with heat to drift up from his skin with a unique spice that tantalized and teased his nose. Every deep breath played and tickled at his arousal as he coupled these with his memories of the previous evening's goodnight kiss. The blast of his guide's scorching flavor layered with the barest hint of tomato and onion, not completely defeated by toothpaste, tugged and repeated itself deep in his throat. 

He fought off his own groan as he cradled the body flushed with warm pulses against his chest. Despite his best effort his cock throbbed at the close contact, the need growing stronger. Shifting his hips back to a more comfortable and manageable distance, he reviewed the previous night. Blair's obvious discomfort over anything more physical than holding and kissing had to be respected. 

For the past two hours his detective's mind rewound over and over Blair's sad words to explain his terror at being held too tightly, "I can't talk about it, Jim. But I'm over it. It was a really a long time ago. I love you. It's got nothing to do with us." 

But he knew that was bullshit. Something really awful happened to the man he loved, and the thought clenched his stomach. He wanted to scream and strangle, beat and kick, stab and shoot anyone who could hurt the man he claimed as his mate. Even as the violent images raged, Jim knew he had to cage them. The darkness within himself could be as dangerous to his guide's well being as any past abuse. He had to trust himself to be in control. More importantly, he had to regain his trust in Blair, a man who kept secrets like buried treasures and told lies disguised as truths even to himself. He needed a plan to save them both and thinking wasn't easy when his brain got waylaid by his cock. 

A murmured moan brought his attention back to focus on the man turning his sleepy body, his face resting against his chest, tiny breaths warming his right nipple. Once again his groin tightened to near pain, but he lay still, afraid any movement would rob his friend of essential sleep. Another groan, shift, and increase of heartbeat brought on a flutter of lashes and blurry blue eyes opened. "Oh, man. Morning." 

"Yeah, Chief. Morning." 

"Hate it." 

"Yeah. I know." Lazily stretching out, Blair spread his heat all along Jim's body as he pulled the cover up around himself and then over his head. Amused at his partner's childlike resistance to waking, he simply lay still and waited, drowning himself in the lush steam of connection. 

After a few more minutes, the younger man mumbled. "Guess it's time to get up, huh?" 

"Not necessarily. It's still early, only 7:30." 

"Yeah, but we went to bed at 9. I'm such a slug." 

Snuggling closer, Jim whispered teasingly. "Uhm, you don't feel like a slug." 

"No? You don't either. God, you feel like heated granite. Damn, you're hard." Fingers traced up his chest and then very gently traveled south, barely touching his cock through his boxers. "I like hard." 

"Chief?" 

"Yeah?" The voice dripped of contented distraction. 

Clearing his throat, Jim tried to be as diplomatic as possible while trying not to think about the hand now rubbing against his greedy erection. "That might not be a good idea." 

"You don't like it?" 

"Oh, yeah, I like it, but, Chief, oh, man, stop." 

"Don't want to." Petulant, he sounded stubborn as well as determined. While one hand pulled down his boxers, Blair easily moved to take Jim's length in his hand. The stroke within the heat stiffened the older man's back to breaking. 

"Jesus, Blair." 

"Just relax, man. I know what I'm doing." 

"Oh, shit, yes." Jim lay back with the slightest insistence of Blair's hand guiding him, the other hand spreading his thighs as the younger man repositioned himself to lie beside him, facing inward. Air thickened, labored breaths became pants as one hand rolled his balls and the other teased lightly to the tip. A red hot finger gathering pearly thick liquid to spread it all along the shaft before once again encasing it in fire. Each line and crease of Blair's palm added friction, each callused pad uneven pressure. Jim could only groan in delicious frustration as every time he came close, the hand would slow. 

"God, Chief, you're killing me here." 

"Man, it's been awhile, huh?" 

"Come on, Blair, stop teasing. Please." Even to himself he sounded pitiful, but the man he loved showed no mercy. He tried bucking up, but stronger hands held down his hips and stopped holding him. 

"No, Jim. Stay still." The voice behind the words trapped him, forced him to listen. 

"I need to move." 

"No." In his mind he raved and argued, but his body remained motionless, every nerve screaming, every muscle tight enough to kill. "Jim, listen to me." 

"God, Chief, please tell me you don't want to talk just this minute." He opened his eyes to see dark blue eyes sparkle with laughter, but also shine with a type of seriousness he knew too well. "Okay, what?" 

"I want to do this my way. You promised I could do that. Remember?" 

An unexpected twinge in his cock coupled with an incredible clenching in his asscheeks reminded him to hurry up and recall. "Yeah, Chief, I remember. Okay. I'm still. I'll stay still, but please, just touch me." He squeezed his eyes shut in agony. "God, I can't believe you've got me begging already." 

A husky voice purred a low laugh in his ear as his guide's gifted hand returned to target, the heated skin against his flesh like a spiritual blessing, an epiphany of desire so deep that Blair's face exploded in his internal vision. 

Cupping the full length from underneath and stroking from base to tip, the grip surrounded and engulfed him, pumping pain and pleasure in even measures. Swimming in energy focused now entirely at his center, his cock sucking every bit of vital power, he groaned as once again the tell-tale pressure coiled tighter and tighter. Even his bones constricted as the swelling to release grew stronger with each quickening stroke. Thigh muscles trembled and pleaded to flex, to thrust his hips up and hard into the incredible fist. But even the slightest trial movement brought more frustration. "Stay still, Jim." 

So, he did and found every cell shaking, so close and ready, ready to jump off a sacrificial cliff just to find release from torment and tension building to new untested limits. From a distance a command finally brought deliverance through the roar that drowned out his thinking. "Now, Jim. Move." 

And he did, thrusting violently upward only twice before flares blasted red and white flashes fading to blue behind his eyes. Spasm wracked his body, distorted his awareness to luscious ecstasy as he raised up, his back arched in a paralysis of release. Not one breath entered his lungs as he spilled out, over and over, his ass under attack by the same muscular rhythm. Blazing pleasure warped his body into a molded sculpture of absolute satisfaction before he finally dropped back down against the bed, his stunned mouth open and useless. 

Gasping for air, awareness of his surroundings finally returned. He turned his head and narrowed his sight to take in the smug face of his partner smiling while he licked his hand, the thick liquid still glistening on his full lips. "Cool, man. Very hot." 

"Very, Chief. Thanks." 

"No problem." Relaxing back against Jim's side, Blair snuggled in close and pulled the covers back up. "I'm not kidding, Jim. I really liked that. A lot." 

"Makes morning worth it, huh?" He wrapped his arms around the smaller man's waist and pulled him closer, his hands locked in comfort. 

"Definitely, man." As they lay there together, Jim's brain finally kicked in. 

"So, Chief, if that was so hot, why didn't you join me?" 

"What?" Shoulders stiffened in his arms. 

"I said why didn't you join me?" 

"I heard what you said." His body tensed even more. "Jim, don't spoil this." 

"How am I spoiling anything by asking, Blair? I know you did all the work, and it was great, but, what's going on? You said it was hot, but my senses tell me you didn't even get hard." 

"Oh, man." The words came with a groan as Blair moved away and sat up, the blanket falling across his lap. 

Putting a hand on his lover's back, Jim sensed the incredible strain in the muscles. "What's wrong, Chief?" 

"Jim, I loved touching you, man. If I didn't get hard, it's not you. You have to believe that." 

"I do, Blair, but I just don't want this to be one-sided." 

"It's not. Just let it go. I can't talk about all this right now. I just need to get used to this new thing between us. Trust it, you know?" 

"Trust it?" 

"Yeah, you know, trust that it's okay to sleep together and still be friends without messing up." 

"I love you, Chief. Isn't that trust enough?" 

"It's not the same. Can you understand that?" 

Jim shook his head, totally confused. "No, not really, but that doesn't matter right now. I guess, you can explain it when you're ready." Touching the arm with a light tug, he pulled him gently back into his arms. "Come on, Chief. It's going to be okay. Just relax." 

"I'm sorry, man." 

"About what?" 

"I don't want to screw up. Don't be mad." 

"Jesus, Chief, you're making me nuts here. How in hell could I be mad at someone who just gave me the best sex I've ever had?" 

"The best?" 

"Bar none. Thought my head would come off." 

Suddenly smiling again, Blair pushed away and pantomimed a quick examination. "Nope. It's still there. Good thing. Simon would really be pissed off if you lost your head over me." 

"God, that's awful, Chief." 

"Yeah, but I've got a weakness for easy humor." 

"Yeah, you're weak all right." Hugging him tighter, Jim rubbed his chin across the top of thick curls. His voice softened around his own words. "I love you, Blair." 

"Thanks, man. I love you, too." 

Just as the older man started to shift his lover up for a kiss, the phone rang. "Damn." 

As he moved to get up, Blair put a tentative hand on his chest. "Jim, no matter what, we're going to make this work, right?" 

"You bet, Chief." 

His guide's insecure expression lingered in the back of his mind, haunting, as he pulled up his boxers and hit the stairs fast enough to snatch up the phone before it switched to the machine. "Ellison." 

"Jim, Simon. You need to get down to the station. We've got a problem." The words chilled his bare skin. 

"What kind of problem?" 

"You know those journals you collected from Kelsy's apartment?" 

"Yeah." 

"You need to read them. Get down here as soon as you can." 

Body uneasy, muscles tensed for action. "Okay, sir. I'll be there in half an hour." 

"And, Jim?" 

"What?" 

"Don't tell Sandburg about the journals." 

* * *

Walking into the bullpen, Jim saw Brown sitting at his desk, back to the door, working on a report. "Hey, H. What's up?" The troubled expression on the man's normally exuberant face warned him to expect the worst. 

"Man, Simon wants to see you right away. I'm sorry, but I had to show him." 

"Show him what?" 

Brown stepped closer and talked low. "With you out taking care of Sandburg, I had to go though the Harrison case stuff, right?" 

"Yeah, right. So?" 

"Man, that Kelsy guy was seriously kinked." 

"We knew that, Brown. What's going on?" 

"Jim, in my office. Now." Simon's voice boomed from his doorway before Brown could continue. 

"Later, Jim." 

"Right. Later." Jim, more anxious than ever, entered his captain's office while his boss closed the blinds and shut the door. 

"Sit down, Jim. How's Blair doing?" 

"He's fine. He had the physical yesterday, so there shouldn't be any problem with his status." 

"Yeah, well, that's at least something good to hear. Haven't heard one way or the other yet officially though." Simon poured himself some coffee. "Want some?" 

"Thanks." 

"Blair going to Kelsy's funeral this afternoon?" 

Jim shook his head, surprised by his own ignorance. "Funeral? Yeah, I guess. I don't know. We've been so busy, I didn't even ask." 

Handing Jim a filled mug, the captain took a long drink from his own. "I know you've been busy. I appreciate that. You've had your hands full with finally closing out the Harrison case along with Blair's problems. It's been a mess." The older man glanced down at his desk before speaking. "I'm really afraid it's about to get a whole lot messier." 

"Why, Simon? What did Brown find and why didn't you want me to tell Sandburg about it?" 

"I've got the books you need to read and some pages marked." 

Cloth covered journals and oversized sketch pads lined up the table, none tagged or labeled. "What's this about, Simon?" 

"Jim, Kelsy apparently knew Blair longer and better than we thought he did. Now, since this stuff includes comments about Harrison mixed in with stuff about Blair and you, if we tag it as evidence, it's going to be read by the defense team and possibly used in court. You need to read what might end up in the record." 

"Shit." Jim sagged down into the seat, his head pounding. He didn't want to imagine what he might read. 

"Yeah, well, a lot of it's obviously just fantasy, but who's to say what the lawyers will make of it and what they might try to suggest?" Simon stood up and headed for the door. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I think you should read these in private, Jim. Plus, you also need to look through those drawings, and there are some photos in the box with the B on it." 

"B?" 

"B for Blair apparently. I'll be in the break room." 

Without another word, Simon Banks left and shut the door, leaving Jim to wallow both in fear and anxious curiosity. Under his breath he muttered, "Shit, Chief. What have you done this time?" 

* * *

Stunned didn't half cover the sensation of numbness that cramped his fingers as he closed the last journal. Visual impairment already forced his eyes shut as he tried to block out the flashes of all the suggestive poses captured of his partner. John Kelsy certainly had a talent for extension. He'd taken raw photos of his naked partner and transformed them into erotic images so intense, Jim grew hard just from the tease of memory. 

One drawing had his lover draped forward over a table, his rounded, bare ass exposed, legs spread, and the young man glancing back over his shoulder, the invitation in his smoky, half-closed eyes more than clear. In another, he still saw Blair sitting with one leg folded up, dressed in a long crisp white shirt left open, his cock half-erect as he stared out. The Byronic figure of his partner stroking himself in the open window, morning light highlighting his curly hair hitched his breath. Blair's beauty, his sex, his mournful eyes called to him from the darkest room of his own heart. 

However arousing his artwork might have been, Kelsy's narrative had the opposite effect. The man's words used a more simplistic, crude voice, direct and to the point. He wanted Blair to fuck him, to control him, to forget about his love for Jim and to become his second master. In his fantasies, the young grad student did just that. Kelsey described in detail the long sessions of torture followed by humiliating sexual dominance he craved from Blair, and how given the proper situation and conditioning, Blair could be taught to do just that. He discussed the training sessions he wanted to set up with his lover-master, whose interest in Sandburg's slave potential bordered on obsession. The sexually explicit sketches worked as enticements for Tony. Kelsy wrote that he knew the trio would be a family, if they could just get rid of Jim. He even had a plan, a plan that involved luring the pair to a warehouse where Jim's life would end so Blair would be free to fuck and be fucked with wanton abandon. 

Opening his eyes slowly, Jim fought down the wave of nausea that curled tight fingers around his gut, the bile still burning his throat. He hated John Kelsy and Tony Harrison with a passion he reserved for a very select few, a list that only included a group like Colonel Oliver or Quinn. Now he regretted shooting Harrison in the leg and arm. It should've been a head shot, one quick bullet to the fucking brain. 

Anger seethed through him so intensely he didn't hear Simon enter the office. 

"Jim? You okay?" 

"No, sir, I'm not fucking okay." 

"No. I guess not." Simon sat on the other side of the table and faced his detective before talking, his voice low and even. "What do you want to do?" 

"Other than kill Harrison you mean?" His teeth ached from the strain of clenching. 

"Yeah, other than that. Look, Jim, I know how you feel here, okay? But we've got to keep our heads about this. We've got to do whatever damage control we can to protect Sandburg, and if I may say so, you." 

Jim stood up, his whole body wired so tight every muscle worked overtime. He walked to the window, his rage barely contained. "I'm sorry, Simon, but you have no goddamn idea how I feel. I can't believe the shit I just read, the shit I just had to sort through." 

"Jim, the photos are real." 

"So? Blair let him take nude pictures? So what?" 

"They're not just poses. You worked vice, Jim. You know how it looks." 

Moving forward, his anger now aimed, Jim braced both arms on the table in front of his superior. He brought his face into Simon's space. "And how is that, SIR?" 

"Jim, back up a minute, will you? I'm on your side with this. Why do you think I've put off tagging any of this for the record?" 

Stepping back, Jim swallowed so hard his neck hurt. "If it's not tagged yet, then we have to get rid of it. No way can we let Harrison's team get hold of any part of it. Do you have any idea what this will do to Blair? You read all of it. You know what happened to him." 

"Yeah, I know what Kelsy said happened to him, but that could be just like the rest of it, made up. Kelsy had an obvious fixation on the kid. Who knows what's real and what was made up?" 

"I know." 

"Shit. Are you saying that Blair was hurt like that?" 

"I'm saying that it's a good possibility that he told Kelsy about it, yeah." 

Simon shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "And he told you he'd been treated like that?" 

Jim rubbed his forehead, the intense spikes stabbing from the inside out. "I really shouldn't say, Simon." 

"I have to make a decision about this, Jim. I have to know if what Kelsy said happened could even be a possibility." 

Taking a couple of long breaths, Jim finally spoke, his voice thick and husky from strain. "I didn't have the details before, but yeah, he's hinted at it, yes, sir." 

"Well, damn, Jim. What the hell are we supposed to do?" 

"We can't let these things get into the record. We've got plenty to convict Harrison already on all five counts of murder one. Both Blair and I witnessed him kill Kelsy and with the other things we collected at Harrison's house, we don't need any of this to put him away forever. Hell, if we had my way, we'd fry his ass today. I'd pull the fucking switch and not think twice." 

As soon as the last words left his mouth, Jim tried to calm the shaking that rushed down from his shoulders into his hands. He turned and stared directly at Simon, only then recognizing the flash of fear in his friend's eyes. "I'm okay, sir. I'm not going vigilante, despite the almost overwhelming appeal at the present moment." 

"I know that. It's just that this evidence also points to the fact that Harrison had plans to replace Kelsy with Blair. We could also use this to show conspiracy to commit murder. They wanted you dead." 

"Fuck that. None of that matters. We've got enough. We don't need this. As far as the department is concerned, we never collected it." 

Seeing the hesitation, Jim pressed harder. "Please, Simon. Not just for my sake, but for Blair's. I don't want him to have to go through anything else. He doesn't need to have the fact that Kelsy, someone he trusted and thought of as a friend, was basically selling him into slavery put out as public knowledge. It's going to be hard enough for him to accept as it is." 

"Kelsy was just as much a victim as Blair, Jim." 

"To hell with that, Simon. He knew what would happen. He was the one who made the anonymous call that got us there. He knew Blair would be with me when Harrison started shooting. He just had no idea what that crazy bastard really had in mind. Don't ask me to give a fuck that the guy is dead. Just let me take this shit and get rid of it. Please, Simon." 

"And what if the lawyer asks about journals and pictures? You know Harrison's probably already mentioned it." 

"Then we'll plead ignorance, suggest that Kelsy kept them somewhere else if he kept them at all. He has a sister. She could probably claim they were her property now anyway. I won't let Blair suffer anymore than he has to." 

"God, I can't believe I'm going along with this. I guess I could argue if I had to that none of this would help their client anyway." Simon reached up, rubbing the top of his short-cropped head to distraction. "Okay, but on one condition." 

Wary, but willing to listen, Jim asked, "What?" 

"You at least tell Sandburg about it. He has a right to know." 

"But you told me not to tell him." 

"Yeah, well, I wanted to ease you into the shock first. One explosion a day is about all I can handle." Simon stepped closer and put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "It's not going to be easy to show him this, Jim, but you have to." 

"I know. I hate it, but you're right." 

Simon hand tightened on his friend's shoulder. "Jim, what about the other thing Kelsy wrote, that stuff about Blair's feelings for you?" 

"What about it?" 

"What are you going to do? Do you think he really told this guy that he was in love with you? 

"Yeah, he did. He told me the same thing." 

"What? When?" Shock made tiny explosions of each word. 

"It doesn't matter." During the conversation Jim's focus concentrated on his feet. He finally brought his head up and met dark eyes. "We love each other, Simon. I didn't mean to tell you like this, but, hell, it's the only good thing that's come out of this whole mess." 

The captain remained silent for a few moments, his eyes squinted and intense. Finally, he nodded his head, "Okay, Jim. We'll talk about that later if you want to. Right now, let's take care of one situation at a time. Besides us, only Brown knows about the journals and pictures." 

"That's good. He's a good man." 

"I know. We only have to worry about the lawyers finding out. If they don't, then there's not a problem." 

"They won't find out, Simon, and if they do, the sister's lawyer could tie it up for years." 

"She's not going to have a lawyer. She's just a kid." 

"Then I'll get her one. They're not getting any of this, Simon. I'd resign first if I have to." 

"You'd do that?" 

"In a heart beat." 

"Let's pray it doesn't come to that, Jim, but I really can't say I'd blame you." 

As if recording the moment, he paused just a few seconds before waving a dismissive hand. "Enough. Take this shit and get out of my office. I've got a job to do." 

Ice blue eyes blinked hard a couple of times to get a clear focus. "Thank you, sir." 

"Don't thank me yet, Jim. I don't have to be a weatherman to know the storm's not over." 

* * *

"Would you like some coffee or tea or something, Mr. Sandburg?" Katie Kelsy stood at the counter in her ultra small kitchen, her eyes red and swollen from crying. 

"No, thanks, Katie. I really can't stay. I need to get back home before too long." 

The young girl pushed back long black hair, a simple gold loop in her ear glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. Her square face, normally so animated and lively, made a picture of grief. Teeth tortured her lower lip as she continued to struggle to hold back another flood of tears. 

Stepping closer, Blair put out a reassuring hand and touched her shoulder gently. "Are you going to be okay here by yourself? Isn't there anyone else to call?" 

"No, not really. Thanks, but you probably picked up from the funeral that there's no family but me. Hell, there were more reporters there than fucking friends. Fucking scavengers I should say. I mean, did you hear that guy ask me what I thought about Tony Harrison, sick asshole that he is? What the hell did he expect me to say, man, that I loved the fact that he killed my gay brother? Shit, they wouldn't even look twice at this case if it wasn't about the sex stuff." 

As if realizing for the first time her own emotional outburst, she wrapped her arms around her stomach. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get carried away. I just get so mad sometimes, you know?" 

"Yeah, I do." 

Nodding, face even more serious, more self-contained, she spoke, her voice hushed. "Yeah, I think you do. Thanks." 

"I'm sorry, Katie." To his own ears Blair's words sounded lame. He had no idea what anyone could possibly say that would ease the awful hurt his friend's sister endured alone and with no family. Suddenly a huge desire for Jim's embrace made him want to make a mad rush to the door. Great effort forced him to will his legs to remain still awhile longer. 

Shaking her head, she took the grad student's hand and then moved to sit on the couch. Her head hanging, her voice choked and stumbled over shy words. "You've been really sweet through all this, Mr. Sandburg. I appreciate it. John really liked you. A lot. He said you and he were extra close. Blair this and Blair that. He talked about you all the time." Raising her head, she met his eyes. "Is that true? Were you two as close as he said?" 

He pretended to misunderstand the question. "We were friends, Katie. We had lunch and talked." 

"But you weren't like together or anything? Not ever?" She sounded timid, unsure as she approached the question. 

Blair took her hand and gauged his words carefully, aware that he wanted nothing to do with inflicting anymore pain. "I knew John was gay, Katie, but if you're asking if we were lovers, no." 

Disappointment darkened the already deep brown eyes. "That's too bad." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"Well, maybe if he'd had someone like you, that awful Tony couldn't have hurt him so much. I mean, John wasn't a bad person. Why did he always go after guys like that who would really hurt him instead of guys like you? I mean, he liked you so much. Why couldn't that be enough? Why did Tony have to kill him? I just don't understand." 

"I don't know, Katie. I really don't." The pressure building around Blair's forehead increased with each passing moment, accented with a regular pounding. He couldn't let himself think of all the words running together in his memory, all the particular conversations where he and John discussed the very questions his sister posed. Wanting more than anything to forget, he pretended he could just punch a drain hole in his skull and flush away the whole nasty playback taunting him from his overloaded brain. 

"Mr. Sandburg?" Her voice interrupted the string of images blurring into one long pulsing pain. 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You don't look too good all of a sudden." 

"Yeah, I'm just tired. I liked your brother. This hasn't been easy." 

"No, it hasn't." She took a deep breath, and patted his hand. "Look, I appreciate you bringing me home, but you don't have to stay. I mean, there's not much for anybody to do now is there?" 

"No, I guess not." He stood up and the whole world betrayed him by tilting. He sat back down again very quickly. "Whoa, that's not good." 

"What?" 

"Just a little dizzy. I'll be okay in a minute." 

"You sure? You look like you're about ready to puke or something." 

Holding the edge of the couch awhile longer, the narrow tunnel of light expanded and air moved more freely in his lungs. "I'm fine. Just give me a few seconds and I'll go. Guess I should've had lunch." 

"Are you hungry? I could fix something." 

"No, I'm cool. I'll leave in a minute." 

"Okay." Just as she started to turn, she stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot something." 

"What?" 

"John, gave me a letter to give you." 

Puzzled, Blair wrinkled his forehead. "A letter?" 

"Yeah. It was weird, sort of like he knew something bad might happen to him soon." 

His whole body shivered from the eerie sense of apprehension. "When did he give you this letter, Katie?" 

"A few nights before he died. He said if anything should happen to him, that I should give it to you and to tell you that he was sorry." 

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" 

"I don't know, Mr. Sandburg. He didn't say, but he did mention that you should go to his studio and pick up some pictures." 

"Pictures?" 

"Yeah. He said you'd know which ones. In fact, he said you could have all his stuff. I think that's what he put in his letter, too." 

"What about you? You're his sister. You should have it." 

"Why? I'm not an artist or anything, and if he wanted you to have his things, it doesn't matter to me." She paused and shrugged. "My brother was different, Mr. Sandburg. I never understood most of what he did. To be honest, most of the time, I really didn't want to." 

Blair closed his eyes, a sinking sensation swirling in his head, the face of John Kelsy snapping photos in a cold studio spinning around him. Suddenly another image flashed, one of Jim collecting things from John's place, of his partner finding his mistakes. It wasn't a pretty picture, but he pushed it away, hid from any possibility of discovery. Surely someone would've said something before now. 

One inner voice screamed for attention, urged him to tell Jim right away. Jim hated secrets. Another voice spoke sweetly, tried to convince him of an easier plan. As he stood to leave, he decided that very soon he'd rid himself of the evidence of his own stupidity and the threat of Jim ever finding out. Then he shook his head and thought maybe not, maybe it was time to finally clean away all the dirty secrets that littered his mental closet, time to make room for forgiveness. It needed a lot more space than he'd ever managed before, more than he ever realized he needed before Jim came along and started cleaning house. 

* * *

Sitting forward on the sofa, Jim leaned his elbows on his knees. His unshaved face burned, raw from anxious rubbing. He had no idea what to say to his partner about the journals and pictures. The urge to set the books ablaze outright made a convincing argument all the way home, but he resisted. As much as he'd like to shred the things to tiny confetti and then turn them to ash, Blair needed to see them. More than that, he needed to understand himself. How could Blair pose like that? Why could he talk to John Kelsy about what happened to him at sixteen, but not to his best friend? How could he fucking betray their friendship? 

Swallowing the bitter mix of hurt and anger, he reached out and got a different drink. The fourth beer in far fewer hours only provided the slightest buzz on an otherwise empty stomach. Over and over in his head he practiced one speech after another, the words tumbling out, disorganized and tainted with his own pain. He understood the need to filter that from the questions, to take away the challenge that could easily lead to misunderstanding. God, he'd had enough of that bad taste already. 

In the distance he heard Blair talking to a neighbor. His footsteps on the stairs brought Jim's shoulders back with determination. They would work this out. To survive they had to find some way to a shared truth. 

"Hey, Jim." The voice echoed off the brick, heavy with fatigue, laced with an underlying grief that warbled each letter. 

"Chief." 

"Sorry. I should've called, but I took Katie home." 

"It's okay. I got your note. Are you all right? Anyone hassle you at the funeral?" 

"No. The reporters were more focused on Katie. God, Jim, they're really a bunch of pricks, you know. I mean, I try to make excuses like they're just doing a job or it's not personal, but shit, it's so not cool, man. You wouldn't believe the questions they asked her right in front of her brother's grave for christsakes." Blair put his jacket on the rack and reached into the refrigerator to pull out a beer. "Want one?" 

"No." Jim waved his half-empty bottle. "I'm fine. Come sit down. You look about ready to drop." He gauged the paleness of his guide's features, the tight skin over the cheeks, the shadow from late afternoon beard along with the dark circles around each eye. 

"Yeah, well, I do feel pretty rough. It's all this stress." 

"Maybe. Did you bother to eat anything after I left this morning?" Blair sat down on the couch next to Jim, letting his head rest against his shoulder. He rubbed his forehead on the well-muscled arm, Jim soaking in the heat. "Chief?" 

"What?" 

"Have you eaten?" 

"Not hungry. I'm so tired. You feel good, man." Lazily, Blair ran a hand along Jim's chest and then relaxed as the older man drew him closer. 

"You, too." Jim's earlier torment lessened with the presence in his arms. He wanted to sit there, holding his guide protected forever. He kissed the top of Blair's head and shut his eyes, relishing the peaceful moment so precious between them. 

Reality's practical voice intruded and forced him to get back to necessary business. "Chief, you need to eat something. I know you. You probably left early this morning to work at school and then went straight to the funeral. Am I right?" 

"Yeah, but it just takes too much energy to move right now." 

"Then stay here. I've got some soup ready." 

"Yeah? You make it?" 

"Blair, I can cook. Besides, I had a few hours and knew you'd be hungry. All I have to do is put it in some bowls and we're all set. It's pretty simple." 

Nuzzling in closer, Blair hugged even more tightly. "God, I love it when you take care of me like this, Jim. I could get really spoiled. What kind of soup is it?" The voice sounded sleepy, almost childlike. 

"Minestrone. And, hell, Chief, you're already spoiled, no doubt about it." Kissing him quickly once again, he growled and added, "Besides, it's one of the things I love most." 

"What? My being spoiled?" 

"No, the fact that you spoil me right back." 

Eyes still closed, Blair smiled. "Yeah, I like that, too." Chuckling to himself, suddenly pleased, he whispered. "Maybe if you're good, I'll spoil you again like I did this morning." 

Playfulness left and Jim stiffened. He had a feeling that by the time they worked through the journals and pictures, Blair might change his mind. Mussing his hair, Jim stood up. "Yeah, maybe. Right now, it's supper time." 

While Jim set the table, he kept a close eye on his lover who had slipped down to stretch out on the sofa so that he could look out the window. A flash of the earlier sketch played across his vision, but he mentally batted it away. He needed a clear head and being turned on by a self-satisfying Blair in a charcoal drawing worked against that. 

"Come on, Chief, it's ready." 

Moving to the table, Blair awkwardly dropped down. "Man, this has been a strange day." 

"Why's that? The funeral?" 

"Yeah, but this morning, right now. It just seems so unreal." 

Jim handed Blair the crackers and took a quick drink. "Unreal how? We eat together like this all the time." 

The young man stirred his soup absently while he talked, his words even. "Yeah, but we've been living together for over two years, almost three, and this is the first time we really knew how the other felt. It just feels different. Strange." 

"Strange good or strange bad?" 

Shaking his head, clearly undecided. "Strange different, leaning toward good." 

Putting down the pepper, Jim stirred once, tasted and then answered directly and sure. "It's all good for me, Chief. I mean, I know we have problems and a lot of things still need to be worked out, but I have to tell you, I know this is better. No matter what, I'm glad you finally told me. In fact, I wish it'd been sooner." 

Staring down at his untouched meal, Blair shrugged. "I'm sorry, but, Jim, you didn't tell me either." 

"I know. Guilty as charged. For a detective I just didn't read the clues. All those table legs had me fooled." 

Blair put his spoon down and pushed back from his food, suddenly determined. "Jim, I've got something I have to tell you." 

"Yeah?" 

"I did something really stupid with John before all this happened." The whole room swelled with the words. 

Swallowing hard, trying not to vomit on the table, Jim braced himself for what his lover needed to reveal. "What, Blair? What did you do?" 

"I didn't lie to you about not being lovers. I didn't do that, so you can start breathing again, okay?" 

"Okay. So, what did you do that was so stupid?" He wondered how many times it would take to get the answer. 

Running a nervous hand through his hair, Blair's dark eyes met his. "I let him take some pictures of me." Hurriedly, before Jim could even respond, he raised his hand. "Let me finish the whole story and then you can ask me whatever you want, okay?" 

"Okay." Jim sat back, arms crossed, his heart pounding wildly. 

"I know John was really screwed up. It didn't take this murder shit with Harrison to bring that home. I already knew it, but despite all that, I really liked his work. He had a talent, Jim. He really did. Anyway, he wanted to sketch me and I just didn't have time. He kept asking and finally he mentioned the idea of taking pictures. He showed me some of the ones he'd taken of other guys and then some of the drawings that he did from them. They were really good stuff. I mean, sure it was erotica, but it was art, sex stuff, but still art, right?" 

Jim shifted uneasily in his chair, his groin tight from his own memory. "It's your story, Chief." 

"Yeah, well, anyway I gave in and one afternoon I went to his studio and he did a shoot. I swear, he didn't touch me, Jim. He just took pictures." 

"And?" 

"And they were mostly nude pictures. He took them while I undressed and then he sort of had me move around and do other stuff." 

"Other stuff?" Jim gritted his teeth. He knew he should say something about having seen the pictures, but his jaws wouldn't work to speak. 

"He wanted me to touch myself, so I did. I don't know why. It was stupid and I regretted it later, but at the time my brain must've taken a vacation or something. I swear I don't know what the hell I was thinking." After a few moments of no reaction other than the classic Ellison stony stare, Blair prompted, "Well? Are you mad?" 

Jim shut his eyes and after several very long seconds opened them to focus on the man he loved, a man so beautiful it hurt to look too long. "Chief, do you have any idea where those pictures are and what Kelsy did with them?" 

"Yeah, they're at his studio and I guess he did some drawings, but I haven't seen any." 

"Brace yourself, Chief. We're going to an art show." 

"What?" Confusion twisted his features. 

"Simon called this morning because he and Brown found the photos and the drawings along with some journals Kelsy wrote." 

"Oh my god." Blair dropped his head to his hands, hiding his face. 

"Yeah, well, luckily they hadn't been tagged, but they saw them." 

"Oh, man. What did Simon say?" 

"He was just as shocked as I was. Blair, you should've told me. Harrison's lawyers could've gotten them and then what? It'd be in public record." 

Shaking his head, the misery sagging every muscle, Blair spoke softly. "Jim, I'm sorry, man." He hesitated and then raised his head. "Jim, if you already knew about the pictures, why didn't you stop me?" 

"Because you needed to tell it and I needed to hear you say it." 

"But why? I don't get it." 

Jim moved around to come kneel in front of his partner. Reaching out a hand, he tenderly pushed back the hair that fell forward into his eyes. "Blair, you've kept so many secrets for so long, it's time to start sharing those. I could've told you I already knew, but I wanted you to trust me enough to tell me without being afraid that I'd get too angry." 

"You're not mad?" 

"Even if I were, what do you think might happen? I'd never hurt you, Chief. I know in the past I've gotten physical. Hell, I put you against the wall the first day we met, but I don't do that anymore. Never again. I might yell, but losing my temper doesn't mean I'd ever hit you. Until a few days ago, I really thought you knew that." 

"I do know that, Jim." The voice sounded so incredibly small, Jim stared harder. 

"Do you really? I have to believe that you truly know it in your heart, Blair." 

The younger man tried to shift away, but Jim firmly held his wrist. "Blair, look at me." As soon as he had his guide's full attention, he whispered. "I need you to hear me, Chief. I'm not Aaron." 

"Oh, shit, Jim. What the fuck else do you know, damn it?" His whole body shuddered, flooded with anguish as Jim grabbed him, held him safe to his chest to keep him from shaking into a million shameful pieces. 

* * *

"I can't believe John wrote about it." Blair sat at the far edge of the couch, his legs tucked up under him, his hands on his thighs. He allowed his eyes to look everywhere except at the face of his partner. 

"He wrote about a lot of things you're not going to believe, Chief." 

"What?" 

"John Kelsy wasn't the friend you thought he was, but I'm not really worried about that now. Right now I need to know you're okay." 

Shrugging, the young man nodded weakly as he picked at imaginary lint on the edge of the armrest. "I'm okay. I just didn't want you to find out about Aaron like that." 

Jim cleared his throat, his face aching from the strain of control. "Then tell me now." 

"It's not that simple, Jim." 

"Why not? You could tell Kelsy about this guy who treated you like shit, but you can't tell me? That's the part I don't get. Why tell Kelsy?" 

Shaking his head, his voice thick, the obvious tension hurt Jim to watch, but he did. He refused to look away, recording very nuance of movement and tone of voice reflecting his partner's pain. 

"I didn't mean to tell him, but we were talking about bad choices. I was trying to get him to leave Harrison. Of course, I didn't know it was Harrison at the time. I just thought it was some other sick fuck John needed. Anyway, I thought that by telling him about Aaron, it might convince him that I knew what the hell I was talking about." 

"But it didn't." 

"Hell, no. Looks like it just gave him something to gloat over and write about. Probably jerked off while he did it." 

"Probably." The word vibrated like stretched wire before the recoil. 

"Jesus, Jim. I really don't want to talk about this." 

"I know, but you need to if we're ever going to get past it. I don't want to live in his shadow every time I want to touch you." 

"You're right, man. Until I realized you loved me, it never bothered me. I wanted you to touch me. God, I craved it, but just as soon as the sex part came in, zap, I'm fucking sixteen all over." Blair swung his legs to the floor and leaned forward while he talked, his hair a dark veil to hide his face. 

Crossing his arms, forcing himself to say immobile, Jim's words traveled flat through constricted air. "Tell me what happened, Chief." 

"I met him through Roy. The two of them boxed together. He was twenty-two and more developed. God, Aaron made Roy look small. First time I saw him, I thought Jesus what an incredible body, two hundred pounds of pure muscle, man. Anyway, I started hanging around the gym with Roy and Aaron and eventually Aaron decided he didn't mind the hero worship. And, god, Jim, that's what it was at first. Looking back, I can't believe I was this idiot person willing to do anything, endure anything just to be with him. It wasn't just physical. In the beginning he was really nice, loving and believe it or not, gentle. Besides, man, I was so lonely." 

"Lonely?" Sharp ache barbed and shredded the very tissue around his heart. 

"I was just a skinny kid at the university, Jim, a science nerd. Mom was in LA and I had lots of people around in classes, but no one to really be close to. I mean, let's face it, fag is not a word you want to play with out in the open even now. I was really unsure of myself, of my own sexuality. I'd always liked girls and now here was Aaron turning that all around. I know my mom always taught me to not care about gender or race, but that's mom. Most people aren't so forgiving. I found that out pretty fucking fast." 

"How?" 

"Well, I wasn't exactly macho to start out with and hanging with Roy and Aaron didn't help, just by contrast. You know how it is when an outsider tries to come into a closed society, and that's what it was in the gym, man. I was white and Jewish and Aaron's fuck-buddy. That was one of the nicer names some of the guys tossed out. I used to get ragged on pretty bad." 

Jim forced himself to unclench his teeth long enough to form the words. "And what did Aaron do about it?" 

"Aaron? Not a lot. Roy stopped the joking around in the gym whenever he was around. The other guys respected Roy even though he was only sixteen because he didn't just run his mouth. He meant what he said. In fact if it weren't for Roy, I'd probably be dead now." 

"Why's that?" 

"Roy tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen." 

"What exactly did Roy say?" 

Blair rubbed his face and pushed back his hair using both hands before he could control his voice. "He told me that Aaron liked smaller, younger guys like me. That he sometimes got too rough, especially when he got all wound up from a match. I didn't believe that because I didn't want to believe it. The first times we were together were incredible. I thought I'd found the real thing, but after a few weeks it changed. He'd get mad, push me around, no broken bones, but a lot of bruises. Then one night Aaron lost a fight and he was really pissed, I mean, seriously out of control. He almost killed me." The last sentence choked, strangled words barely audible except to sentinel ears. 

"What happened?" 

"I wanted to calm him down, talk to him, but he wouldn't stop. He held me down and, well you know." 

"He raped you." The words hissed across dry, dead space. 

"Yeah." Pausing and gathering in more air, Blair struggled to speak without shaking. "Roy showed up the next day and found me bleeding. He went apeshit, man. I didn't want to go to the hospital, but I had to. I was pretty messed up. The doctor was some kind of homophobic racist. Anyway, he threatened to call the police and my mom and tell them what I'd let happen, like I deserved it or something. Man, I was so panicked. It hurt so much and this so-called doctor terrorized me, made me feel like shit. God, Jim, his words, even now, I can't forget. I know they're bullshit, but they play over and over in my head. Years later, even now, I feel dirty." 

"You're not dirty, Chief." Jim fought back the sting that blurred his vision, ignored the pain of razors shaving away at his gut, one slow slice after another. 

"Intellectually I know, but I keep getting ambushed. I'd probably be able to get over it easier if I hadn't been stupid enough to go back to him." 

"What? You went back after he raped you?" 

"Yeah, I did. I didn't tell John that. I told him the rape finally made me leave Aaron, but I lied about that part. Hell, I can't even tell the truth when I'm confessing. God, I'm so fucked." 

"Tell me the rest of it, Chief." 

"It didn't just happen once. I mean, it was classic, Jim, absolutely fucking classic. Aaron showed up all guilty and begged me to forgive him and I did. Roy couldn't believe it. I think he wanted to punch me himself. I could see it in his eyes, but he didn't. He just told me I was old enough to make my own dumbass decisions no matter how fucking stupid or dangerous and to call him if I ever needed help. Then he threatened to beat the shit out of Aaron if he ever did it again. Hell, I thought they were going to kill each other right there. I should have left the first time. Part of it was my fault for going back." 

"You were just a kid, Blair." 

"Yeah? Well, I was old enough to fuck. I should've been strong enough to walk away." 

"So, why didn't you?" 

"I'm not sure. I've thought about it a lot since then. I mean, I haven't been with any other guy because of it until you. I think part of it was that in the back of my mind, right or wrong, I bought the bullshit about deserving it. Or I'd make excuses. He wasn't rough all the time, or he doesn't know his own strength, or he just lost control, and that he really loved me. Take your pick. What made it worse is that most of the time he was a great guy." 

"Why was that worse?" 

"Because then I'd forget and let my guard down. Then, without warning, he'd get pissed. That's when it got really bad." 

"How bad? Worse than getting raped?" 

"Yeah, bad enough to make me hate him, to make me hate myself." 

"Shit." Jim got up off the couch and stood by the window, his arms still held tightly around his chest, his heart like rice paper ripped apart. "How bad, Blair?" 

"I loved him, man. The rapes made me feel like I was nothing, but I got used to that." 

"Used to feeling like nothing? Damn it, Blair, how do you get used to something like that?" 

"I don't know, but you do. Guess it's better than admitting that you'd rather have somebody hurting you than to be alone." 

"Jesus, I can't believe I'm hearing this from you. I don't even know you, Chief." 

"I know. I don't know myself either sometimes. Guess that's part of the problem. Anyway, what I couldn't get in my head was why he'd do that. If he loved me, then how could he lose control and hurt me?" 

"He couldn't." 

"I know. I'm really stupid sometimes, but I finally figured that out. I came by the gym one day and overheard him bragging to his friends about fucking his white bitch raw, about how sweet it was to make me bleed when he fucked me. When I heard him put me up as a wager for one of his matches as a joke, I started puking and couldn't stop." 

"Jesus, Blair." Nothing prepared him for the screaming he couldn't let out. It vibrated to his bones and the smallest tendons, every tissue swollen with muted suffering. 

His partner's face contorted with his own inner struggle to control the rough pounding of memory, his whole body held against the real threat of breaking. "Roy found me and took me away from there, told me I'd never see him again, and I didn't." 

"What happened to him?" 

"He left the city the same night." 

"And how did that happen?" 

"Roy just said and I quote, 'that motherfucker's done gone, man.' He never told me how he did it, and I never asked." 

"Well, that explains your feelings for Roy." 

"Yeah. I was a mess for awhile and he was the one guy who understood. He forced me to get some counseling and to refocus on school. Roy Williams saved my life, Jim, and when he died I was so incredibly pissed. He was the one who loved me, not Aaron. I felt so powerless all over again when you were going after Jamie. I had to do something because I know how much Roy cared for his brother." 

"Yeah, you were a tiger, Chief." 

For the first time in the conversation, Blair raised his head and made eye contact. "Jim, I really thought I was over all this. I'm sorry." 

"Sorry? Why? Because you're a survivor? Come on, Chief. We've both had enough psychology courses to know this kind of thing is going to be with you your whole life. That doesn't mean you can't control it. I mean, hell, you broke the pattern, that in itself is fucking amazing." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, Chief." Jim stepped to the couch and sat down next to his partner without actually touching, but close enough if Blair wanted to reach out, he could. "You had me worried though, Chief. Kelsy wanted to drag you back to a dark place in your life and you were sitting right on the edge of it, right on the fucking edge." 

Blair's words came out in a whisper. "I know." 

"Then know this. I'll do anything I can to help you believe in this thing between us being right. I need you to trust me and have faith that I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. But I also think that you've got some serious work to do on your own here, work that has nothing to do with me or us. You have to trust yourself and I honestly don't think you're doing that yet." 

Blair turned and faced his best friend, his features drained. "What are you saying, Jim? Are you saying you don't want to be with me?" 

"No, I'm saying I want you to be willing to take a look at what it is that scares you about yourself and work on it." 

"I've done that. It's just that being with you as a lover scares me, Jim. I know it shouldn't, but it does." 

"Now that I know what happened, I understand that. But, Blair, I'm here and I'll always be here, but you're the one who's in control this time. You're the one who'll decide where and how we'll sleep or how we'll make love or if we'll make love at all." 

"You could do that? Give me that much power?" 

"Giving up control is the hardest thing in the world for me, you know that, Chief. But, whether you know it or not, you've been calling most of the shots from the beginning of this relationship. You're my guide, my partner, my best friend. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be locked up in some psych ward on permanent zone out, that is if I hadn't gotten around to eating my gun first." 

"Jim, man, don't talk like that." 

"Why not? It's the truth. My senses made me crazy because I didn't understand how they worked. Then you came along and showed me a way to control them, gave me my life back along with your friendship and now your love. You've got all this strength and you give to everyone around you, but now you need to focus some of that same sympathy and compassion that you give other people on yourself. You have to forgive yourself for whatever mistakes you think you made when you were sixteen years old and finally get around to healing." 

Sitting there absolutely rigid for a few more moments, Blair eventually nodded and shifted over to shyly touch his body to Jim's, their thighs and shoulders connected, his head against the older man's arm. "I hear what you're saying, Jim. I want to do that. I'm just not sure how." 

"Well, let's start with getting you something to eat and maybe you can get a shower." 

Blair rubbed his hand across Jim's chest. "Then what?" 

"Well, that depends on you." 

"How?" 

"You can either tackle reading Kelsy's journals and seeing the drawings, or we can just sit here and cuddle and save all that shit until tomorrow." 

"Man, like that's a hard choice?" 

"Well, you're the boss, Chief. You decide." 

Blair leaned in, his body relaxing while he whispered, his words still a little unsure. "It's really up to me?" 

"Absolutely." 

"Then what I really want to do is start that fireplace and burn every last fucking page of poison that John left behind." 

"But you haven't seen any of it yet." 

"I don't need to, Jim. Rip up the sketches before you even bring them in here. I'm finished with it. It's time to move on and I can't do that with booby traps lying all around." 

"If you're positive." 

"A purification ritual is an age old practice. Cultures all over the world do it. It feels right somehow." 

"Well, it makes sense to me, Chief." 

"Can we do it right now?" 

"Absolutely. Want some popcorn while we watch?" 

"Popcorn? Natural with no salt?" 

Jim stood up and smiled, tilting his head, warmed by the growing, rekindled energy beaming from dark blue eyes. "Guess we'd better make two batches then. I want some butter and salt on mine." 

"High blood pressure recipe, Jim?" 

"Okay, okay. God, I really must love you, Chief. Natural, no salt." 

Blair leaned back and stretched out over the couch, his hands behind his head, watching Jim intently. "You know what?" 

"What?" Jim reached up over the counter and got down the microwave bag for the popcorn. 

"I suddenly feel so much lighter for some reason." 

"Maybe it's that two hundred pound secret off your back." 

"Yeah, maybe. But maybe it's because you were really cool about it. I don't know why I thought you wouldn't be, but now, well, I just feel better." 

"I'm glad, Chief. But you know it's not over." 

"Yeah, I know, but at least I don't feel like I'm sucking in a black cloud with every breath, afraid you're going to find out what a jerk I've been." 

Jim put the bag down on the table abruptly and walked over to the couch. "Sit up for a minute, Chief." 

"Why?" Hesitation rounded his eyes as confusion wrinkled his face. 

"Just do it. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want you to sit up." 

"Okay." 

Sitting down behind his guide, Jim reached and pulled him against him, Blair's back to his chest. The older man's voice spoke softly into his guide's ear, each word even and precise. "I love you, Blair Sandburg, and I want you to know that no matter what you tell me, that's not going to stop. Do you believe that?" 

"Yes, I think so." 

"You think so? Okay, I'll work with that. Now, I told you before you're in control, so whatever you decide to tell me or not tell me is up to you, but I've got to put a preference in here, Chief. Are you still with me?" 

"Yeah, so far." The body in his arms sat slightly stiff, but eased with each passing moment. 

"My preference is no secrets, no lies in the form of omission, little things that you conveniently forget to tell me. I want you to trust me enough to tell me something even if you think it will piss me off. I can't make you do that, but I can promise that even if I get angry, I'd never hurt you and I'll still love you. Do you believe me?" 

"Yeah, Jim, I do." Blair relaxed into his sentinel's arms. 

Jim hugged him tighter, teasing his mouth against the side of his neck as he whispered. "Trust me, Blair. I want to kiss you and hold you and make you really believe what I'm saying here. I'll stop whenever you say, Chief, but the popcorn can wait. You taste salty enough." 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" His tongue licked again, just under the ear, around to the front of the throat. 

Blair's pulse increased against Jim's lips as his breathing grew thicker. Struggling to clear his throat, Blair moaned, "I swear, Jim, I am NOT going for the butter." 

* * *

Morning light appeared like fuzzy gauze shading his eyes. Jim shifted over, sensory awareness returning with the heat radiating down the entire front of his body where Blair lay scrunched against him. With his first deep breath, an involuntary moan rumbled his chest as his cramped, dehydrated muscles resisted any change in position. Despite the achy reminders of his overindulgence in beer, popcorn, and Blair, he smiled at the memory of making out on the couch like teenagers, never going too far, working it all up to the edge, but never stepping over. He barely remembered the two of them staggering up to bed to fall down in a drunken heap in the center, wrestling with the covers and finally spinning into the abyss of dreamless sleep. Glancing down at the mess of brown tangles pressed against his chest, he sighed. Blair hadn't moved the rest of the night, reeked of beer, and showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. 

In the meantime, Jim's wide awake bladder urgently insisted on immediate attention, refusing to take no for an answer. Carefully, he repositioned his guide's limp, naked body under the covers and eased himself up. He still wore his jeans from the night before, while evidence of Blair's strip tease littered the place. Heading down the stairs to the bathroom, he collected discarded clothes to be put in a hamper. The hangover did a double punch to his stomach and head as he stood over the toilet to relieve himself and hoped Blair would get off easier than he did, though he doubted that would happen. The younger man had a much lower tolerance for alcohol. Guilt nudged only slightly as he remembered thinking he should have stopped him from drinking anymore after the fourth beer, but it didn't last long. The need for a private celebration outweighed the morning after consequence sometimes. 

Washing his hands, he then drank several glasses of water along with two aspirin and took a quick shower and shave. Moving to the kitchen, he made coffee and just started toasting a bagel when he heard the groans and restless turnings from upstairs. "Chief?" 

"Oh, god. Did someone shoot me in the head while I was sleeping?" 

Smiling, grateful for the humor, Jim shouted, "Nope. I think it was self-inflicted, Chief." 

"Oh, man. Why'd you let me drink so much?" 

"Let you? Remember who's the guide here, Sandburg." 

"Yeah, well, the fun of making all the decisions is overrated." A pause and a shuffling of bedclothes indicated his friend's fumbling. "Man, Jim, where are my clothes?" 

"In the hamper. Come on down, Chief. You can do it." 

"Jim, I'm naked here." 

Setting the table, Jim couldn't wipe the grin off his face. "Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, you look pretty good naked. Now, come on. I've got coffee brewing and I'll make you some toast." 

Another groan followed by the raspy sound of fabric over fabric introduced Blair coming down the stairs wrapped in a top sheet. "Doing the Greek toga act, Chief?" 

"Funny, Jim. God, my head hurts." 

"Price of purification." 

"Would you please stop. I can't stand it." Distress warped the muscles in his face as one hand held the sheet up while the other rubbed his forehead. 

"Can't stand what?" 

"You had more than twice as much to drink as I did and you still look perfect. That sucks, man." 

Jim pulled the smaller man in close for a quick kiss to the top of his head, but then pushed him away playfully in the direction of the bathroom. "Lordy, Chief. Go shower now. Ripe doesn't half cover it here." 

"Fuck you, Jim." Grumbling under his breath, decidedly not a happy morning person, Blair shuffled down the hall and slammed the door. 

Jim whispered to himself while he continued to fix breakfast. "Not yet, Chief." He smiled, contentment warming up his muscles to make him slide around the kitchen like some TV chef. Just as he started to grab the cream cheese, he stopped and cocked his head. "Damn." 

He walked over to the door and opened it. "What are you doing here, Simon?" 

"Good morning to you, too, Jim. Nice to see you. May I come in?" 

"Sure." Standing back, he let his captain enter. "It's Saturday. I'm off for the weekend. What's going on?" 

"Is Sandburg here?" Simon shook off his jacket and put it on the rack. 

"Yeah, he's taking a shower." 

"Good. We need to talk for a minute." 

"Okay. Coffee?" 

"You have to ask?" The captain sat down at the table, his hands clasped together. While Jim got down another mug, his boss nervously played with the salt and pepper shakers. "How's Blair doing?" 

"He's better, thanks. We had a long talk and I think we got a lot of things cleared up." 

"Yeah? That's good then." He took the offered cup and doctored it with cream, stirring and putting off talking. 

"What is it, Simon?" 

"I got the report about Sandburg's physical at the office. Apparently Blair only gave the station address." 

Cold wrapped Jim's body as he stood perfectly still. "Tell me." 

"Don't get too upset, Jim. There's nothing definite yet." 

"Definite about what? Come on, Simon, tell me what's going on." 

"The doctor only gave a conditional continuation of status." 

"What the hell does that mean, conditional?" 

"It means that he wants to run more tests and until he's satisfied that Sandburg is completely fit, his consultant status will only be okayed on a week to week basis depending on the results." 

"Shit, Simon. That's like being held for ransom or something." Jim slammed his fist into the counter, working hard not to think about the rest of what he needed to ask. 

"It's not that bad, Jim. He could've pulled his pass altogether. As it is, he's giving him a chance to do the tests and continue working until all the results are in." 

"What kind of tests? What did he say?" 

"He didn't. He wants Blair to call and set up an appointment to talk about it first." 

"Oh, fuck. That means we'll have to worry about this all weekend until we can call Monday." Running an anxious hand over thinning hair, he complained. "Like we don't have enough shit to worry about already." 

"Just calm down, Jim. I thought of that and I called Dr. Crammer myself. He said he couldn't discuss the results with me, but that if he thought Blair were in immediate danger, he'd have pulled his papers outright. He said he just wanted to follow up on some things and that if he really needed to, Blair could call him at home before Monday." 

"Then he didn't think it was serious?" 

"He didn't say that. He just said that in his opinion there was no immediate danger." 

"Immediate danger of what, Simon?" Blair's voice came from the hallway. He stood there hair wet, fresh T-shirt and jeans shower damp. Using a towel, he rubbed and worked at drying his curls. 

"Chief, it's nothing serious." 

"Come on, Jim, man, what?" 

"Simon just came by to tell us that the doctor wants to run more tests, that's all. It's no big deal." 

"Shit, man, no big deal?" Just as he started to say something else, his skin paled as he reached out and steadied himself against the wall. "Oh, man." He turned back quickly toward the bathroom and slammed the door. Strangled retching sounds muffled only slightly as they echoed through the loft. 

"Jim? Is he all right?" 

"No, Simon. I don't guess he is." Sagging down in a chair beside his captain, Jim held one hand to his stomach as fear swirled and rolled into a swarm of angry bees trapped in the pit of his belly. 

* * *

Jim handed his partner the mug of tea to help relieve the queasiness. "Where'd Simon go, man?" 

"He needed to go pick up Daryl. They're supposed to go up to see Simon's mom this weekend." 

"Yeah? Sure I didn't scare him off with the barfing routine?" 

"The captain's been through his share of hangover's, Chief. You feeling any better?" 

Blair sipped at the tea and then took a longer drink. "Yeah. My head still hurts, but it serves me right. I suck at drinking. Always have." 

"Most people do." 

"Yeah, right, Mr. I'm going to chug a six-pack and not even blink." 

Jim settled down at the opposite end of the couch and drank his coffee. Carefully, he controlled his words. "Blair, you're upset and you feel like shit, I understand that, but don't take it out on me, okay?" 

Sheepish, Blair nodded. "I'm sorry. That came out nasty. I just don't feel good, that's all." 

"I know." He finished the coffee and set it on the table. "So, you want to talk about what you want to do about this doctor situation or pretend nothing's wrong some more?" 

"Now who's being the jerk, Jim?" 

"Sorry. Let me put that a different way. Let's talk." Nervous, the older man stood up and walked to the window, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. He paced back and forth a few times before he spoke. "Simon left a number to call the doctor so we can at least find out what the problem is. That should relieve our minds some." 

"Yeah, it might. Might make it worse." 

"So, you don't want to even call?" 

"Will it change anything? Face it, Jim, I failed. I knew this was going to happen." 

Jim stopped moving and turned toward his guide. "What do you mean you knew? Are you saying you already knew something was wrong and that's why you put off going in the first place? When I asked you before about that you said that wasn't true." Blair swallowed hard and drank the rest of his tea, remaining silent. "Chief, answer me, goddamnit." 

"I knew you'd get mad." 

Frustration stormed through his arms as he clenched his fists by his sides. "I'm not mad, Blair. I'm upset. There's a difference." "From here it looks pretty much the same, man." Blair stood up and went to the kitchen, taking his mug with him. Impatience brought Jim right behind him while his partner poured himself some coffee. 

"Talk to me here, Chief. I thought we promised no more secrets." 

"Jim, it's not exactly a secret if I don't really know something for sure." 

"Don't play fucking word games with me, Sandburg. I want you to tell me what's going on with you." As Blair backed away, making more space between them, he moved forward. The quick fear in his lover's eyes halted him. He stepped back, his hands behind him as he leaned against the counter. He shook his head. "I don't believe this. You're afraid of me." 

"No, I'm not." Blair came closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

"I saw it. Jesus. My brain must be on fucking Mars or something. I'm sorry, Chief. I'm not mad at you. I'm just so frustrated with this whole situation." 

"I know. Me, too." 

"So, can you at least try to tell me what you were thinking might be wrong?" 

Blair settled at the table, both hands gripping the hot mug. "I haven't been feeling too great the last few months. Nothing specific, just headaches and dizziness, feeling really dragged out." 

"You've been skipping meals, too." 

"Not that many, Jim." 

"Chief, I could count on one hand how many full meals you've had in the last week." 

"Well, maybe, but this hasn't been your typical week." 

"That's true. So, what else?" Jim came to sit at the table near the corner next to Blair. 

"Nothing else really. Honest, Jim. It was never anything specific. I thought it was just stress. I still do, no matter what the doctor thinks." 

"It might be stress, but, Blair, why didn't you say anything?" Jim reached over and took his lover's hand, grateful that he didn't pull away. 

"I thought I'd get better." 

"Are you saying it hasn't? That you still feel that way?" 

"Actually today probably isn't the best day to take a survey on how well I'm feeling." He squeezed Jim's hand to accent his weak smile. 

"True. Tell you what, Chief. I know you said you don't really want to call the doctor, but I'd appreciate it if you did. You know how bad I am at making up worst case scenarios." 

"Yeah, I hear that." 

Ignoring the jab, Jim put on his best long-suffering face and continued. "We're off for the whole weekend. We could stay here and just rest. Give me a chance to fatten you up a little. Or if you want, we could go up to Taggert's cabin. He offered to let me borrow it awhile back and I know it's free. What do you think?" 

"Jim, I've got a whole ton of work to do. I am like so far behind you wouldn't believe it. With the shooting, the physical, and the funeral, well, I just pretty much blew off the university all week. I have got to get caught up, man." 

Jim thought of all his own unfinished work lying stacked on his desk at the station. "Okay, I'll tell you what, why don't we compromise? I'll go get some of my stuff to do and we'll work here while we keep each other company. Then tomorrow, we'll just take a break." 

"We could do that." Blair nodded, a rush of color finally reaching his cheeks. "Why don't you go on down to the station and pick up whatever you need to, and I'll call the doctor." 

"I'd rather be here, Chief." 

"I know you would, Sentinel Jim." 

Blushing, the older man shrugged. "What if I promised not to listen?" 

"You could promise, but it'd be an awfully big temptation. Look, I promise to tell you what he says. Just let me take care of it." 

Biting back his own nagging lack of trust, Jim forced a nod. "Okay, Chief, I'll pick us up some Chinese on the way home, too. Anything special?" 

"How about a fortune cookie that promises a long and healthy life?" 

A hint of sadness flavored his partner's attempt at humor. Jim pushed back a stubborn curl, locking it behind Blair's ear. "Don't forget happy, Chief." 

With all seriousness, Blair captured and cupped the back of Jim's hand before he could draw it away. Bringing it closer to caress the side of his own cheek, he turned his head and gently kissed the center of the palm. The words came out deeper, more husky, like thick honey across winter sand. "I've already got that part, Jim." 

* * *

By the time Jim returned to the loft two hours later, he fully understood the concept of road rage. "Crazy ass drivers." 

He muttered even worse things to himself as he juggled his files and the sacks of Chinese chicken dishes. He couldn't believe how people just didn't even bother with turn signals, speed limits, or road signs any more. He had half a mind to bust everyone who ever blew a horn just because someone sat too long at a changed traffic light thinking about something else, something like what could be wrong with his partner. 

As he reached the door, still flustered, he kicked at the bottom. Turning up his senses, he didn't hear Blair inside the loft. "Damn." Sudden panic quickened his movements as he found his key in a hurry. 

Once inside he put everything on the table and did a quick scan to confirm his suspicion. "Where the hell are you, Chief?" Before he could throw something heavy or ram his fist through a wall, he saw the note on the handle of the refrigerator. Reading that his guide needed to take a walk and for Jim to eat without him didn't take long. Trying to decide on being pissed, fuming, or understanding took a little longer. 

After he put the food away and got a bottle or water, he sat down to figure out the puzzle of Sandburg. Blair obviously needed time alone to think. That he understood. He couldn't complain about that since he did that himself. Even so, his partner usually talked things through, or at least that's what he'd always done until the last few months. After Roy died, Blair walked himself right into the Federal Building with those counterfeit bonds. Since then, one by one, Jim discovered more and more that he didn't know enough about the man he loved. He needed to change that, but he couldn't until Blair decided to truly trust him. 

Squeezing his eyes tightly closed, he took a deep breath and commanded himself to not run out and track down his runaway guide. Instead, he sighed heavily, picked up a folder and started to work while he waited, the time like lazy minutes on a very long Monday. 

Two hours later Blair came through the door, his hair wet from the beginning storm. "Hey, Jim." 

"Chief." The detective put his pen down and closed the file before he leaned back and put his arm on the back of the kitchen chair. 

"I'm sorry, Jim." 

"About?" 

"I know you wanted me to be here, but I just needed to get out for awhile to clear my head." 

"Looks like you got rained on to me." 

"Yeah, well, it's Cascade on a weekend, man. It had to happen. Anyway, I'm going to get cleaned up and then we can talk if you want to." 

"Okay, Chief." Jim stood and put the kettle on to reheat water while Blair changed and dried off. By the time he returned to the kitchen, the tea seeped in the pot. "Better?" 

"Yeah, man. I think so. It's just so ironic." 

"What is?" 

"He said I definitely have anemia and that I might have hypoglycemia, too. He wants to run some more tests for that. I'm supposed to go in Monday for more urine and blood samples and to have my blood pressure checked again. Then he wants me to eat this special diet for a few days and have something called a Glucose Tolerance test done on Thursday." 

Jim stood very still trying to remember his medic days. "Glucose Tolerance test? Isn't that what they run to check for diabetics?" 

"Yeah, but it doesn't necessarily mean that. He wants to rule that out and find out how my body handles sugar." 

Muscles still tight, not fully comfortable with the words he heard, he forced himself to be patient. Nodding, Jim removed the tea bags and then poured the liquid into Blair's mug. 

"Okay, so why is that ironic?" 

"Well, I'm always on you to eat right, and anemia is a dietary deficiency for iron. Go figure how that happens." 

"Wonder burgers, Chief." 

"What?" 

Jim handed Blair his tea. "I should've gotten you a Wonder burger more often instead of Chinese. Bound to have iron in all that red meat." 

"Cute, smartass. Anyway, I'm going to talk to the doctor on Monday and see if I can just convince him that it was all because I hadn't been eating right before those last tests. I mean, between all that and the stress from the case, it just probably threw everything off." 

"Maybe, but is that what you really think or is it what you hope?" Jim braced his hip against the counter fighting off the urge to grab Blair into a tight embrace. 

Blair put his mug down and stepped closer. Leaning in, as if reading Jim's mind, he wrapped his arms around his waist while resting an ear over his heart. Sentinel arms matched his effort, their combined body heat a tremendous rush. "Both probably. At least I know that if is that, I can just change my diet." 

"Better yet, you could just try eating on a regular basis." 

"Yeah, there's always that." Nuzzling his face into Jim's chest, he mumbled. "I'm so tired, man. I know this is lazy, but I just want to go upstairs and take a nap." 

Breathing deeply, luxuriating in the heat seeping through his shirt from the contact of Blair's skin, Jim whispered. "Then why don't you do that?" 

"All those papers, man. I haven't done a thing about catching up." 

"Okay, well, let's eat, then you can get some sleep. Work on the papers tonight if you have to. If you don't, so what? There's always Sunday." 

Blair pulled back and stared up into Jim's face. "But you wanted just to hang out tomorrow." 

"So? Plans change. Chief, I don't really care what we do as long as we're together. I mean, sure I'd rather be hugging and kissing and making out like bandits, but that doesn't mean I'm not realistic. We both have jobs to do." 

"Like bandits, huh?" Blair squeezed in tighter, his body heat rising. He spread his legs around the larger man's right thigh, rubbing and rocking slowly, his growing arousal sending tremors to Jim's already too tight crotch. 

"Chief? What are you up to here?" 

"If you can't figure it out, guess you need some remedial classes, man." A hand stroked Jim's nipple, the nub raging and sensitive. Then a palm worked its way down to run across his belly, the touch trail so intense it numbed his breathing. 

"Please." Ragged breaths held words hostage, his brain suddenly autistic. 

"Please what?" A mouth captured his, an invading tongue challenging and wrestling his own, savage teeth tugging at his lower lip, swallowing nothing but moans. The whole world blazed into steamy clouds that made thinking nothing that mattered. 

Greedy for more, he cupped a hand to the back of Blair's skull, fingers woven in curls, pressing him forward. All motion suddenly stilled, all kissing and thrusting frozen. His guide pulled back and turned his head to whisper into his right ear, "Put your hands to your side, Jim. Grip the counter if you have to, but don't touch me, okay? Don't try to hold too hard like that." 

Barely breathing, he nodded and put his hands down to support his back against the counter. Nothing focused, but floated around him, as he recognized only the scorching tongue licking down the front of his throat. Fingers tore open the buttons exposing his chest, cold air contrasting with the flame of each lap against skin. From a distance he heard the zipper go down, concentrated tension coiled inside his cock. Every tease of tongue or finger seared him, his defenses broken completely. Stomach muscles clenched to tight sheets near rupture as Blair engulfed the head, his lips strong clamps branding the tip with flashes of intense pleasure. 

Grunting from surprise, he gripped the edge behind him, desperate to remain standing, his legs spread and locked. He wanted to grab the head of the man sucking at his center. He needed to insure the swirling mass of fiery sensation singing up through every fiber and exploding through the top of his skull, pounding pressure building to release. Instead, he held tight, forced himself not to touch, to give up every urge to direct. God, he wanted to shove forward, but Blair's hands held him still, bobbing his head to take the whole shaft. Asscheeks clenched as cock swelled and balls drew up, constricted right to the edge of bursting, all muscles drawn and then releasing a series of spasms, explosions of ecstasy so like agony he screamed out loud. Darkness took over sight and he found himself falling backwards, away from himself into a hungry dizziness, jealous reality at a distance. 

Some time later his guide's rich voice swam down to seize his thinking and drag him back to the boring light of regular daytime. "Jim?" 

"Jesus, Blair, I think you're going to kill me." He blinked several times to focus on the concerned expression transformed to amusement as his partner knelt beside him. A gentle hand stroked his face, and Jim laughed as he realized that he sat bare-bottomed on the floor and that his jeans hobbled his ankles. Undignified didn't half detail his appearance, but he didn't really care. Fucking satisfied and grateful in all capital letters described his feelings well enough no matter how slutty it looked. 

"You liked that?" The quiet voice beside him brought his attention back to Blair's face, uncertainty a living question in his lover's eyes. 

"Did I ever tell you my fantasies about heaven, Chief?" 

"No, I don't think so. Why?" 

"Because that would be one of my favorite versions. Incredible." He closed his eyes, clinging to the aftereffects that kept his body still flushed and throbbing all over. 

"So, you want to eat now?" 

"I think you already did that, Chief." 

The playful jab in his arm brought a deep-throated laughter that only added to his delicious charge. "Man, come on, time to get up." 

"Did that." Dreamy, he fluttered at the edges of the world. 

"Stop it, Jim. Come on, get up and pull your pants up, man. I can't eat with you looking so hot and distracting, and I need some real food here." 

"God, you're so fucking bossy, Chief." 

"Yeah, well, your secret's safe with me, Jim." 

"What secret?" 

"That you're a closet bottom, man. You love it." 

Jim took in the impact of his partner's words and discomfort eliminated his earlier easiness. "You think so, Chief?" 

"Yeah, man. Definitely. You're a screamer, too. I never would've guessed that, but I like it." 

Jim stood up, suddenly very unsure as he fumbled at zipping over his boxers, his crotch still damp. Oddly, he didn't mind having his guide's kisses still warming his lap. "It's weird." 

"Weird? Weird how?" 

Not making eye contact, Jim busied himself washing his hands and then getting the cartons of food out of the refrigerator. "I've never been like this with anyone else." 

"Like what?" Blair stepped closer, putting his hand on Jim's back as he spoke. 

"Like what you called it, a bottom. Like you're the one calling the shots sexually. I mean, I've always been the one doing that until you. Of course, I've always been with women before." 

"Yeah, well, maybe that's why, or maybe it's because you know that's what I need right now to feel safe. If that's the case, I appreciate it." Jim snorted as he put food into bowls to be reheated. "What?" 

"Blair, I'm the one getting all the release here. Since we started this, you've not even come once. What's there to appreciate?" 

The younger man turned away without answering and headed down the hall. "Chief?" 

"I'm tired, Jim. I'm just going to the restroom. Call me when the food's ready, okay?" 

Damn. "What did I say, Blair?" 

"Nothing, man. Just call me when it's done." 

"Okay, Chief." 

But it wasn't okay, not by any stretch of the imagination, sentinel or otherwise. Through the door of the bathroom he heard the sounds of brushing as his partner scrubbed and spit away any evidence of his devotion to their union. 

* * *

The computer screensaver clicked from document to the emblem for the Cascade PD and stayed that way. Jim didn't even notice. He sat with his head tilted, propped up on his hand, totally distracted. First thing Monday morning, he'd come into work, told Simon about Blair's appointments and possible conditions, and sat down to finish typing up his files. He'd wanted instead to go with his partner, but his stubborn friend insisted on doing it all alone. Noon came and went and still no Blair entered the bullpen. Worry, on low nag mode before, persisted to grow louder with each passing minute. 

Simon's gravely voice interrupted his pessimistic musings. "Jim, I need to see you in my office. It's important." 

"Be right there, sir." He closed up his files and made it past his boss just as Banks started talking. 

"Jim, we've got a major change in the Harrison case." 

"What change is that?" 

"The DA and his lawyers want to make some kind of deal." 

"What? What kind of deal? What the hell kind of deal do you make with someone who tortures and kills people for fun?" Growing tension clutched and grated at his stomach. 

"Just settle down now. They want to forego a trial by having Harrison committed to Conover for treatment." 

"What? That's crazy, Simon." 

"I think that's the point, Jim." Taking a calming breath, the larger man sat down on the edge of the desk. "Look, if you take all the evidence of the case objectively, it makes sense. What sane man is going to do what Harrison did?" 

"I'm not arguing with the fact that he's nuts, but if he goes to Conover, he could get out at the end of year if he convinces some asshole shrink he's recovered." 

"Jim, that's not going to happen. The man is certifiable. Both the prosecution and defense doctors agree for once." 

The detective shook his head and paced in front of the window. "You don't understand. This guy is smart, Simon. Even after I took over the case from those useless bastards in vice, it still took me over a month to get this guy. He taunted me, played around with Kelsy's head, who in turn messed with Blair. They knew exactly what to do. It was just a miracle they didn't succeed in killing me in that warehouse." 

Simon's face clouded, serious concern making his broad jaw tight. "Jim, thanks to you burning the journals, and my letting you, we can't even make that connection. As far as the lawyers of both sides are concerned, Harrison didn't even know about Blair much less want to lure him there to take Kelsy's place or to kill you. They just know he tortured, mutilated, and then shot his lover, the fifth one in a string of murders over the last year." 

"I know that, sir, but we know the truth. If he goes to Conover, there's no guarantee he won't get out. Going to trial would make sure he went to prison forever. No jury would ever let him go." 

"You're forgetting that if there's a trial, you and the kid will have to testify with you as the main investigator and Blair as a key witness." 

"First of all, he's not a kid. What are you saying? You think he can't handle testifying?" 

"I never said that." 

"No, but you meant it. He's a grown man, sir, and a hell of a lot stronger than people give him credit for." 

Strained silence lingered between them before the captain finally spoke. "Okay, Jim, tell me what's going on here. I thought you'd be pleased that there wouldn't be a trial for either of you to go through." 

"I told you. I don't want Harrison at Conover." 

"Is that because you think he could escape like Chapel did?" 

"Maybe. I mean, the man escaped maximum security to come into my house to almost kill my partner. Who's to say it couldn't happen again? Harrison's smarter and more dangerous than Chapel ever thought about being." 

"Well, for one thing, the security's even tighter than ever, Jim. If it makes you feel any better, you could even do a check on it. I'm telling you this is the best way to go on this." 

"And I'm saying I don't like it." 

Simon looked down at the papers in his hands and stood up to move behind his desk. He sat down and poured himself some coffee. "Well, I'm sorry you feel like that, but the deal's pretty well set. Both sides have agreed and the judge will probably make a decision by the end of this week." 

"I see." The cold tone chilled the room. Before Simon could say anything, Jim's cellphone went off. He flipped it open and answered. "Yeah. Ellison." 

"Jim?" 

"Blair? What's wrong?" 

"I need you to come over to John's second studio at 231 Bailey." 

"His second studio? What second studio? What are you talking about?" 

"Just listen, Jim. You know how we burned those sketches?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Well, now we've got some paintings." 

"Shit." Jim jerked the phone from his ear and fought down the urge to bite off his tongue. Finally he controlled his breathing long enough to speak. "I'm on my way, Chief." 

* * *

The single bed in the corner stank of old semen and blood. Leather straps coupled with chains draped from each of the four corners while used tubes of lubricants, an open can of Crisco, and a dildo, obscenely filthy, littered the floorboards. 

Turning away in disgust, Jim focused on his silent partner standing in the center of the upstairs room of the restored building. Lighted by high windows, it made a perfect studio for painting. Canvases of Blair decorated all along the walls, each sketch turned into full color portrait of his lover in various erotic poses. Despite his own darkness, John Kelsy had quite a talent at capturing intensely sensual, almost hypnotic sexual magic. The lines and colors feathered his groin with twitches, each like long delicate brushes teasing his cock. 

Standing beside his partner, Jim whispered, "What are you thinking, Chief?" 

"I'm thinking we're never going to be free from this nightmare." 

"They're just pictures. We can get rid of them if you want." 

Blair turned and stared at Jim, intent and puzzled. "What do you mean, if I want? You sound like you don't care if we do or not." 

"Listen, I just meant that they're really kind of beautiful in a strange way. I mean, they're not the sort of thing you could put in your work place or living room, but they're you, Chief." 

"Me? You're nuts, man. I don't look like that. What the fuck are you talking about?" The anger rolled off his words like new smoke. 

"Calm down. I just meant...." 

"I know what you meant, Jim. You think I look like some kind of slut and it turns you on. I don't have to have heightened senses to figure that out, okay." 

Jim blushed, willing his growing arousal to stop. "Shit, Chief. Would you just settle down." 

"I don't want to settle down, damn it. God, I'm just so really pissed. I have to get out of here." Stomping down the stairs to the first floor, he stood at the bottom of the steps, his whole body rocking back and forth, one foot to the other. 

After a quick look around, Jim took a deep breath and several moments later followed him down. A sentinel didn't have a chance against a pissed off guide. He already knew that. 

"I'm sorry, Chief." 

Blair wandered over and stood at the window, staring out, the drizzle fitting his mood. "You don't need to be sorry, Jim. I just hate this shit. I don't mean to take it out on you. It's just that sometimes I can't get over how stupid I can be when it comes to judging people. If someone had told me half this shit about John Kelsy, I'd never have believed it. I knew what he did, man, but I didn't know, not really." 

"I think we all do that sometimes, Blair, hide from the truth when it's ugly." 

"Yeah, maybe." 

"Chief, how did you know about this place? It's not listed with his property. And how did you get a key?" 

"John wrote me a letter and the key was in it." 

Jaw set tight, his stomach clenched, Jim stepped to stand beside his partner. "When?" 

"When what?" 

"When did you get the letter?" 

"The day of the funeral. Friday, I guess. Katie gave it to me." 

His mouth almost too dry to help his tongue and lips work without bleeding, Jim tried to talk evenly, not reacting to the anger swelling up. "Why didn't you tell me? You had this thing all weekend and never mentioned it?" 

"Why? What difference does it make, man?" 

"What difference? All these damn secrets, Sandburg. Every fucking time I turn around, I'm tripping over something else you forgot to tell me." 

Suddenly realizing his friend's anger, Blair stepped away, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. "Don't start with that again, Jim. I didn't tell you because I didn't think about it. I wasn't hiding it." 

"Didn't think about it? Come on, Chief. You've got a letter from a dead man, a man you cared enough about to go to his funeral, and you didn't think about it? I don't believe that." 

"I can't help what you believe, man. Jesus, this is fucking unbelievable. We've got to decide what to do here and you're going off because I forgot about some letter." 

"Not just some letter, Chief. A letter that told you where to find sexy pictures of yourself. How do you expect me to feel? Happy?" 

"Well, you were feeling pretty damn hot and happy just a minute ago, Ellison, so maybe you should answer that." 

The harshness of the words bit him, slamming him into stillness. Shaking, Jim turned away, struggling to control the confusion that gutted his reason. 

"Blair, I didn't mean that. I don't really think you were hiding anything, but sometimes, it's just so fucking hard to tell with you." 

"Yeah, I know. I've got this history that kind of makes it hard to trust me. I know that, Jim, but when I said I wasn't going to do that anymore, I meant it." 

"I know you did. I'm sorry." 

Nodding, but not standing any closer, Blair spoke quietly. "John left me both the houses and all his work." 

"What?" 

"In the letter he told me he arranged it with the estate lawyers. If anything happened to him, he wanted me to have all his property, including all the art." 

His throat stubborn, Jim had to swallow several times before he could speak. "Why would he do that? What about his sister or Harrison?" 

"I don't know, man. I don't get it either. I have no idea what was going on in his head. Anyway, I wanted to tell you so you wouldn't think I was hiding anything else. I called the lawyer he named in the letter after I left Dr. Crammer's this morning and he said that as soon as the probate goes through, I could sell any or all of it." 

"Is that what you plan to do?" 

"Yeah, I'm going to put the money in an account for Katie. If she doesn't want it, I'll set up a scholarship or something." 

"You sure about all this, Chief?" 

"I don't want anything from John Kelsy, ever. I'm sure about that. As for the pictures upstairs, I don't know. I'm not the only one he's painted. The others might want theirs back or something." 

"And yours?" 

His features shadowed by the low light in the room, Blair studied his friend a few moments. "Unless you want to keep them, I'd rather destroy them, Jim. They remind me too much of how stupid I can be. It's bad enough to look in the mirror sometimes and know it. I don't want to have it on a wall somewhere proving the point." 

"Blair, you're not stupid for believing in people. We all trust the wrong person sometimes. I wish you wouldn't keep calling yourself that." 

"What should I call myself?" 

"Gorgeous and loved beyond all reason?" Jim reached out a tentative hand trying to draw his partner closer, but Blair refused, keeping his arms folded across his chest. 

"Stop it, Jim. I'm serious here." 

"I see that." Disappointed, but not altogether defeated, Jim put his hands behind his back. "Okay, Chief, you're the one in charge. You want to burn, shred, go for the dissolve in acid deal, or what?" 

"What?" 

"Well, if we're going to destroy them, we might as well do it now and save time later. I don't see the point in letting them lie around waiting to be discovered by some other poor bastard who thinks you're beautiful." 

Frustrated, but on the verge of surrender, Blair leaned and rested his forehead on the fogged window pane. "Jim, please, man, you're not making this easy." 

"Not my job, Sandburg. You decide what to do. I don't really need them because I've got the real thing, right? I mean, I still have the real thing, don't I, Chief?" His own insecurity surprised him. He stood there like some shy school boy, helplessly in love, waiting for an answer. 

"Jim, you don't even have to ask, man. Get over here." His guide's supporting arms made for the embrace that anchored a sentinel's floundering heart to hope. 

* * *

Blair sat staring glumly at the dinner plate piled with two slices of wheat bread, a hamburger pattie, green beans, and a baked potato. Beside it an applesauce bran muffin, a half cup of pear slices, and a glass of milk finished his physician required high carbohydrate supper. "Man, there is like no way I can eat all of this. I'll explode." 

"I find that highly unlikely, Chief. Now, eat. I cooked this stuff and weighed it all out just like it said on the paper." 

Pushing around an offending vegetable to hide it under the beef, the younger man complained. "You know that Crammer guy is completely unreasonable, Jim. I can't believe I've got to eat all this three times a day for three days and THEN give up another whole day so they can torture me for no good reason. How can one test take six hours?" 

Jim carried his own plate with a leaner version of Blair's meal to the table and sat down. "Look, Chief, Simon says this guy is really good, not just a guy getting a kickback for doing all the cop physicals for people who don't have a personal physician. He knows what he's doing." 

"Well, if he did, he'd listen to me and not tell me that I have to eat all this, plus take vitamins. And that's not even the worst part." 

"I know, Chief. No coffee." 

"No coffee, Jim. Listen to the words clearly. No coffee. Do you have any idea what that's going to be like over the next three days? I'll be nuts by Thursday. I won't be able to function." 

"Your food's getting cold, Chief. Eat." 

"You eat it, Jim. I don't want to do this." 

"I know that. The whole world pretty much has the picture, Chief." His voice sounded weary, the words flat. 

After a long pause, Blair asked, "I'm being a jerk, right?" 

"I didn't say that, but, Chief, did it ever occur to you that if you think you need coffee so much, that there might be a problem? I mean, I don't have the background in holistic healing and natural health foods that you do, but isn't an over indulgence in any one thing, especially something like caffeine, bad?" 

Blair picked up his muffin and peeled off the paper before taking a nibble. After he chewed awhile, he frowned. "I had a feeling you were going to bring that up?" 

"What?" 

"Health foods. Besides, I hear what you're saying. I know I've let the coffee thing get out of hand, but, it's everywhere, man. At the station that's all you guys do is drink coffee. Simon even has his own machine with special blends. At school I'm usually so tired and it helps me stay awake longer. Then I get wired and stay up later and by the time I get up in the morning, well, without coffee, you've seen me, Jim. Slugfest, babe. Big time." 

Jim smiled at his fondest slugfest memories. "Yeah, but you're a cute slimy thing." 

"Oh, man, stop." Blair finished off his muffin, drank his milk, and started on the potato. "It's just that I know I drink too much of the stuff. Once I tried to cut back and it really made me feel like shit." 

"But you already feel like shit lately, so you won't be able to tell the difference." Jim finished off his hamburger and reached for a beer. 

"Man, I want one of those." 

"Nope. No, alcohol either. But, frankly, after the last binge, that's the best thing anyway." 

Chewing his food slowly, Blair glared, his blue eyes like futuristic lasers. "You are starting to piss me off, man. You're getting way too much fun out of this." 

"Not at all, Chief." Jim sat back and took a long drink, the smile curling his lips too easily. 

"Yes, you are. You like stuffing my face." 

"You got that right." The grin couldn't get bigger and still fit around the bottle without choking. 

"God, what a slut." Blair put down his fork and rubbed his belly, his face twisted with frustration. "Man, I really don't think I can eat all this. I'm not kidding." 

"Well, just finish up the bread at least. According to that menu, you've got to have at least 15 bread exchanges a day until the test. You ate the muffin, so score two, thirteen to go." 

"I don't eat that much bread in a week, Jim, much less a day." 

"Guess you'll be doing some serious snacking before bedtime then, Chief." 

"If I do any serious snacking, Jim, it's not going to be on a breadstick." 

Caught off guard, Jim sputtered his beer. "Jesus, Sandburg, warn a person before you start saying stuff like that." 

"Nope, don't want to. I like you off guard. Leaves you at my mercy." Blair stood up and got some water before he continued talking. "You know, Jim, the doctor said I just had to try to follow the diet as close as I could. He didn't say I needed to stuff myself to the point of puking." 

Jim finished off his own bread and licked his fingers before wiping them on the napkin in his lap. "It's not really all that much, Blair. It's just that you haven't been eating lately, that's all." 

"I know that. That's what I tried to explain to Crammer. Just as soon as all this Harrrison business is over and I catch up with my work at school, then things will settle down. My blood pressure won't be so high and everything will be fine." 

Turning in the chair, Jim reviewed what he just heard. "Wait a minute, Chief. Did you just say your blood pressure was high?" 

Suddenly flustered, Blair drank his water. "I meant blood sugar." 

"But your blood sugar's low." 

"I meant that." 

"Damn it, Chief. You're pissing me off here." 

"Man, I'm fucked, huh?" 

Jim dropped his head into his hands and rubbed hard enough to make his cheeks hurt. "Tell me, Chief." 

"Well, it's not really a big deal. Just a little elevated. He just wants me to have it checked every day for the next few weeks so we can get a pattern or something. It's just stress, Jim. When he took it this morning, I'd just read John's letter. Then he took it again before I left and it was back down. Honest, it's nothing to worry about." His words spilled out too fast, his hands waving at the same guilty speed. 

Looking up, his eyes locked with his partner's. "If it's nothing to worry about, why didn't you tell me? Why hide it?" 

"Because I knew you'd worry. You always worry, Jim. I hate that." 

Nodding, deep breathing, Jim stood, his arms bracing him up from the table. Very quietly he walked to the windows and just stood there. 

"Jim?" 

A few beats later, in a hard, direct pattern, he spoke using his most serious, well-trained cop voice. "You know what I hate, Blair?" 

"What?" 

"The fact that you and I keep repeating ourselves. I keep saying over and over how I don't want secrets and you keep telling me you're not going to do that anymore. Then along comes another one and we start all over. Why is that?" 

Swallowing hard, suddenly nervous, Blair went to sit on the couch. "I'm sorry, Jim. I swear, it's not really something I mean to do." 

"Then why do you do it?" 

"Well, it's not like I do it to hurt you. I just didn't want you to worry." 

"That's not the point and you know it. It does hurt." 

"Oh, shit, man, I'm sorry." Misery's poster boy stared up at him, big blue eyes so rounded, he wanted to kiss each one back to favor, but he resisted. He had to. 

"It's got to stop, Chief. I'm serious. If we're going to be together, I have to know you're not going to keep things from me just to protect me. That's not what being together is all about." 

"I know that. I'm really trying here, Jim, but you've got to understand, I've done this like forever. It's a little hard to change my whole lifestyle in a few days." 

"We've been together for almost three years, Blair." 

"Not as lovers, we haven't." 

"So you're saying you've been keeping secrets and telling lies ever since I've known you?" Jim stopped and held up a hand. "No, don't answer that. We've had that discussion before." He rubbed his hands together, his voice taking on more force. "Okay, here's the deal, Chief. We've got to find a way to change this behavior. Do you agree to that?" 

Wary, but willing, Blair spoke, uneasiness straining his words. "Yeah, I agree, but, what do you have in mind?" 

"I don't know, Blair, but we've got to do something. What do you think would work with you? What would scare you badly enough to get you to not keep secrets? What would finally get you to stop?" 

Blair stared down at his hands before his voice answered softly, "The threat of losing you, Jim. That would make me stop." 

Sitting down beside him, the older man pulled him into his arms. "You'll have to think of something else then, Chief." 

"Why's that?" 

"Because I'm never leaving. You want to end it, the door's open, but no matter what you do, you're stuck. The thing is, I can be a real pain in the ass if you keep pulling this shit." 

Words muffled into Jim's chest. "Pain in the ass is right." 

"Yeah, well, I'm tired of tripping over my own dick. I'd think you'd get tired of it, too." 

"But I like your dick, Jim." 

Sighing, he shook his head. "I mean it, Blair. No more secrets, understand?" 

"Yeah. I'm really am sorry about that." 

"I know." Shifting so they could sit side by side, Jim pushed back his lover's hair. "So, your blood pressure's up, too, huh?" 

"That's what Crammer said, but I don't think he really knows how to use that pressure cup thing of his. Besides, like I said, it was back to almost normal by the time I left." 

"Uh huh. You know what I think?" 

"What?" 

"I think it's time you started to practice what you preach. All those relaxation exercises you taught me, when was the last time you tried doing them yourself?" 

"I've been a little busy." 

"I know. That's the point. Busy and starving yourself. I think it's time that you stop worrying so much about me and start taking caring of yourself, too." 

"I take care of myself." The protest came out too weak to even be considered. 

"No more denial. Chief, do you have any idea how important you are to me?" 

"I think so." Even as he spoke, the younger man scooted away. 

"Thinking isn't good enough. You mean my life. I know it's incredibly selfish, but now that I admit that I love you, I want to keep you around. Your health's important. You're always on my case to eat right and to relax. Why do you bother to do that?" 

"Because I love you. You know you don't eat right half the time." 

"So why is it okay for you to worry about me, but I'm not supposed to worry about you? It doesn't work that way. I need you, Chief, and if that means being a royal pain hounding you to tell me when you don't feel well, or to know what's going on inside that complex brain of yours, then I'll do it. I love you. Do you get that?" 

"Yeah, man, I do." 

"Yeah?" 

"What do I have to do to prove it?" Blair inched closer, rubbing his hand along Jim's chest. 

Jim took this guide's wandering hand in his, halting its travels south. "You know something I've started to notice, Chief?" 

Blair nuzzled his head under Jim's chin, his tongue slicking along the jawline. "What?" 

"You do this every time we have an argument." 

Blair pulled back immediately, jerking his hand away form Jim's. He stood up and walked to the window, his hands running through his hair. "Man, I can't believe you just said that to me." 

"Why? I didn't say it to upset you." 

"Too late, man, way too fucking late." 

"Why? It's just that I've noticed every time you do something that upsets me, we talk about it, and then you move in. I'm not saying I don't like the moves, Chief. That's not it at all. It's the timing." 

Shaking his head, his hands on his hips, he twisted his face in total confusion. "I don't have a clue what the hell you're talking about." 

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Chief. Do you really think you have to have sex to make me forgive you? I love you. You don't have to work for my forgiveness." 

"Jesus, you're an arrogant bastard. I don't fucking believe you." 

"Blair." 

Holding up a hand, he cut off any more words. "No, don't say anything else, Jim. I'm going out for awhile and when I come back, I'll be sleeping downstairs tonight. You won't have to worry about me working you for anything." 

"Come on, Chief. I didn't mean that. Just calm down. I don't want you to leave." 

"No? What the hell do you want? You come on like you want me and then you turn around and tell me you think I'm some kind of whore selling myself for your, what did you call it, forgiveness? What the hell is that? If I want to be with you, I don't do it for any reason other than I love you, you stupid son of a bitch." 

As he headed for the door, Jim reached out to grab his arm, but Blair twisted away. "Don't even try to stop me, man, or I won't even be back. Are you hearing me, Jim, because I mean it." 

"I hear you, Chief. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." 

"Well, then I guess we'd both better start thinking a little harder about how we're going to do this relationship deal, Jim, because it seems to me we've hurt each other more this last week than three years put together. I don't think I can take that, man." 

"Are you saying you want to end it?" 

"No, I'm saying I'm tired of being hurt and walking on eggshells because I'm afraid you're going to get pissed off at every little thing I do." 

"Blair, I don't know what else I can say to convince you." 

"Try trusting me to know a little bit about what I want. If I crawl up in you lap, just enjoy it for godsakes and don't make it into some kind of devious manipulation. If I want to keep a few things to myself because I'm a person separate from you, who just happens to love you, deal with it. It's part of who I am. I can't share everything, Jim, and I can't be worried that's going to make you crazy." 

"I'm not the one acting crazy here, Chief." 

"Oh, fuck you, Ellison. I'm gone." And he was, the slamming of the door only punctuating the mental punch to the gut Jim gave himself for being such an ass who couldn't keep his stupid mouth shut. 

* * *

Sleeping on the couch only seemed fitting since he didn't have a doghouse. Jim stretched out, pillow across his stomach, hand over his forehead thinking over the wording of his apology all night long. By the time 7 AM arrived with no return of his partner, he figured he had plenty of time to revise. 

Stumbling into the shower, he turned on the steamy water, lathered up, and stroked himself casually with no response. Leaning forward, his head against the cool tiles, he reflected back over his life, and decided until he had Blair, nothing much mattered, not really. Now, standing there, his hand wrapped around flaccid tissue, he wanted his guide back, needed him as much as he needed breathing. The revelation both stunned and strengthen him. Purpose always made plans work so much better. Rinsing off, he stepped out of the shower, toweled off, shaved, and dressed in a hurry. 

Grabbing up some orange juice, he also picked up the phone. Calling the university office, he held his breath until he heard his lover's voice. "Sandburg." 

"Chief, it's me. Look, don't hang up. I'm sorry. Let me pick you up for breakfast and we'll talk." 

"Don't want any breakfast." The voice sounded petulant, still pissed, edging toward exhaustion. 

"Blair, please." 

"We can talk, but not at breakfast. I have an early meeting. I'll come by the station around 11. We can talk then if you want. Besides, I think it's about time I apologized to Simon about those notices I took." 

"You don't have to do that. He understands." 

"Yeah, well, I want to do it. I need to talk to him anyway about the journals." 

"That's all over, Chief." 

"For you maybe, but I still have to look him in the eye and figure out if he can still stand to work with me when he knows so much about me." 

"Blair, what happened to you doesn't change who you are now, who you've been ever since Simon's known you." 

"I know that, but it changes how he sees me. I have to see for myself if that change is more than either of us can handle." 

"You always make things so damn hard." 

"Maybe, but it's what I have to do. Eleven then?" 

"Yeah." The click sounded like a thunder clap in his ear. 

* * *

He looked haggard. No other word fit. Jim sat at his desk, forcing himself not to leap up and snatch a rumpled, obviously sleep-deprived Blair into his arms. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably while he waited for his two best friends to settle things, to come to some understanding that had nothing to do with him. Knowledge that the world of Ellison didn't quite reach to every corner of existence bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Greedy to know every aspect of his lover's life, he desperately wanted to listen in, but knew he'd be in even bigger trouble. And Blair would know. He always did. 

Fifteen minutes later, Blair came out of the Captain's office while Simon answered on the phone. "Jim, you ready to go to lunch or something?" 

"Wonder burgers?" 

"Sure. I should be able to carbo-load like crazy." As Jim started to say something else, Blair held up a hand, his eyes still averted. "Don't. Not here." 

"Right. Okay." 

Once on the road, Jim, still off-balance and too tired to think straight, decided to start with something easier than his own foot-in-the-mouth diet. "So, did you and Simon get things settled?" 

"Yeah, pretty much. I apologized and groveled, and he threatened to use my head for a football on Thanksgiving if I ever did it again." 

"Must have heard us in the hall when I told you to stay away from the prison. Didn't keep you away though." 

"No. But I got his point, Jim. I should never have done that, risked his trust like that. That one's all on me." 

"And the other?" Eyes ahead, watching out for all traffic hazards, Jim still focused most of his senses on his partner. Only a slight increase of vitals eased his fear. 

"Simon made it clear that he wouldn't bring it up if I didn't want to talk about it, but that if I ever did, the door was open." Blair cleared his throat. "He also suggested I might want to get some counseling for it." 

"You think that would help things?" 

"Maybe. I don't know. Right now, my head hurts just trying to line things up in a way that makes any sense. Maybe later if things get worse or if the dreams start again." 

Avoiding a blue Chevy changing lanes, Jim slowed down and then asked, "Dreams? What dreams?" 

"It took me a long time to get over what happened. I've only had a couple recently, so it's not out of hand yet. I don't think it will be. As long as I sleep next to you, I seem to do okay. Guess even in my subconscious, I see you as a protector, huh?" 

"I'd like to think you see me that way when you're awake, too." 

Jim slammed on his brakes, just noticing the red light. When it turned green again, Blair started talking. "I do most of the time, Jim, but you've got to understand, boundaries are important, too." 

"I know. Sometimes, I go too far. Overstep. I get that. I'm sorry about last night, Chief. I really am. I should never have said anything." 

"I have a confession to make about last night, Jim." 

"What?" 

"I hate to admit it, but I think you might've been right." 

Instead of gloating, Jim cringed back, his lover's pain lacing the words like salt on soft candy. "Why's that?" 

"I thought about it a long time last night since I couldn't do any sleeping, and I guess I didn't even realize exactly what I was doing. It's what I've always done. When I was dating other people, it was like that, too. Like with Samantha. I'd do something stupid and piss her off and we'd make up by me promising never to do it again and then I'd come on to her and we'd have really hot sex." 

"I'm surprised you ever got out of bed long enough to come back home." 

Blair turned, his frown of disapproval clear. "Jim, I'm trying to apologize here and explain something and you're being an asshole again. Just stop it or stop the truck." 

"Chief, I really don't want to talk about Samantha if you don't mind. I mean, I know it's probably stupid and it shouldn't bother me, but it hurts to hear you talk about sleeping with her, or as you call it having really hot sex." 

"Really, man? You're jealous?" 

"I didn't say that." 

"Yes, you did." Running his hands back through his hair as if taking time to process a new, very radical theory, he paused and then nodded. "Sorry, I should've thought of that. Anyway, it's just like you said, man. You nailed it. How did you pick up on it when I didn't even know I was doing it?" 

"Probably the same way you pick up on things about me, like the way when something bothers me, instead of just dealing with it, I get mad and take it out on everyone else. You call me on it every time." 

"Like the thing with your dad?" 

"Yeah, like that." 

"God, Jim, we're quite a pair, huh?" 

"Sentinel and guide, that's us." 

"Hell, no wonder we're lost half the time." 

Jim glanced over, watching Blair stare out the window. "Oh, I don't know. I have a pretty good idea where we are most of the time. And so do you, though this isn't the best time to prove that. We all have rough patches, Chief. We just skidded around a little early, that's all. It's going to get better between us. We're already friends and we love each other. The rest will just fall into place later. We just have to both want it." 

Blair turned his head, his eyes bloodshot, but still intense and a dark blue that swallowed up light like a long summer sky. "Do you still want it?" 

"You bet. Couldn't live without it." 

"Come on, man, be serious." Without another word, Jim signaled and pulled off the side of the road, parking away from traffic. "Jim, this isn't Wonderburger." 

"And this isn't a joke, Blair." Jim shifted in his seat, focused entirely on his partner. He reached over and took his hand. "This has to work, Chief. All night long I kept thinking over and over what would happen if you left and all I could think of was nothing. Nothing, Chief. This has to work. Am I making myself clear here?" 

"Yeah, man, crystal. And, you're right, it has to work because, I can't imagine my life without you either." He lifted Jim's hand and kissed it lightly. "We're on a public street, Jim, or I'd kiss you where it really mattered." 

"Then let's pretend that we're both brave enough to do that." 

Shaking his head, Blair smiled. "No, man, let's not get carried away in the moment. We'll seal the pact later, okay? Let's just go eat and draw a deep breath. I can't believe we're so damn mushy about this." 

Laughing, the rush of relief swelled his lungs. "Who would've thought you'd be the one to keep his head during a heated moment." 

"I always keep my head, Jim." Reaching over, he brushed Jim's bulging groin suggestively. "Later on, I'll prove it. Right now, I do believe you promised me a burger." 

Groaning loudly, Jim banged his forehead on the steering wheel before sitting up straight to start the engine. Straining his words through clenched teeth, he muttered. "I'm telling you, Sandburg, you're going to hurt me doing shit like that. How am I supposed to go back to work in this condition?" 

"Well, we could always go for Tube steak, Jim." 

* * *

Jim finished off the last beer and tossed the bottle in the trash before walking to the couch to crash. The long week finally ended, he wanted nothing more than to curl up, wrap his arms around his guide, and forget most of the past few weeks. He had no intention of forgetting all of it, however. Wicked images of his lover crawling, licking, and sucking teased him even as he sat waiting for Blair to find his way back to the living room. 

"Hey, Jim. You look worn out." 

Opening one eye and focusing on the face near his rewarded him with a wildfire to his belly. "Not that worn out. Just a little frayed." 

"Frayed, huh? That'll work." Blair came around the end of the couch and settled at Jim's feet. He pulled off the white socks and dropped them on the floor, ignoring the look of they don't go there from Jim. Massaging fingers brought on a rush of pleasant itchiness turning into pulsing all the way to his calves into his crotch. Jim closed his eyes while he listened and answered. 

"So, I'm glad the Thompson case is already over. Man, the guy was really stupid to leave the gun in his car like that." 

"Yeah, well, he wasn't exactly bright to kill his partner without an alibi anyway." He reveled in the touch of his guide's hands as they kneaded and rolled the bottoms of his feet, each one surging a relaxing energy from muscle to bone. 

"So, did I mention that I'm completely caught up at the university thanks to that little all night can't sleep after a fight with my partner thing earlier?" 

"No, but I'm glad something good came out of it." 

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not do it again, but since it worked out, I'm glad Simon gave us the weekend." 

His voice drifting, his body too relaxed to follow too many more words, Jim just nodded. 

"And, I guess I'm glad about Harrison's being locked away at Conover." 

The tone of voice snagged his left brain and snapped him to attention. Jim opened one eye to peek down at his partner. "You sure about that?" 

"Might as well be. Not much to do about it, is there? Besides, Simon's right. The guy is nuts. No telling what would happen to him in prison." 

Jim held back saying that he'd either die the sick way he deserved or find a nasty little kingdom. Somehow he knew his lover didn't need to hear that. Instead he turned over on his side and pushed himself up to a sitting position. "He can't get out, Chief. I went out there myself and ran down all the new security. He can't do what Chapel did." 

"When did you go out to Conover?" 

"Middle of the week. Figured I should just check it out. After all, I'm still finding feathers in the strangest places from that last shoot out." 

Blair smiled and edged closer. "I know. Found one wedged in my ass yesterday when I sat down at the top of the step to put on my shoes." 

"If you didn't run around buck naked, you wouldn't be rubbing your skinny ass all over the place." 

"But you like rubbing my skinny bare ass all over the place." 

"Oh, man." Jim shook his head and put up a finger in mock warning. "Don't start, Chief. It's only six on a Friday. We've got the whole weekend." 

Pretending to consider the caution seriously, Blair tilted his head and pulled his thick hair to the back of his neck with both hands. He then let it fall forward all around his face, the curls dark and dangerous, an invitation as well as a signal to what he wanted from Jim. His voice lowered, on the edge of guide tone, but deeper, he spoke with sultry passion. "My blood pressure's been fine all week, right?" 

"Right." Jim watched every shift of muscle in his lover's face as he spoke, fascinated by all the changes, his lips beacons for sentinel sight. Even so, the voice controlled his attention like welcomed leather bindings, soft and well used. 

"And according to Crammer, I only have a mild case of hypoglycemia which I should be able to control with diet and a better stress management program, true?" 

"True." Jim stretched as his muscles tightened, anxious with anticipation as his horny lover moved even closer, his hand already on Jim's knee. Clearing his throat, trying to rein in the growing need already making his breathing ragged, he managed to ask, "What kind of stress management did you have in mind?" 

"Oh, you know, meditation, earth music, gardening, yoga, standing on my head." 

"Standing on you head, Chief?" The words came into the world squished. 

"Well, now that you mention it, maybe standing's not the verb I had in mind." 

"What verbs did you have in mind, Chief?" He only played at breathing. 

"Several and they all involve action." Blair shifted upward, crawling up and over to wrap himself around Jim's neck. Licking once and then nipping at his ear, he growled and then whispered. "I do love you, man." 

"I know that, Chief. It's been rough though." 

"But it's getting better, right?" 

"Oh, yeah." He could barely catch his breath as Blair suckled voraciously at his neck, his words slippery between busy lips. 

"Let's go upstairs to bed, Jim. I want you." 

"Now?" 

"Right now." Blair pulled himself away long enough to stand, hands on hips, his voice suddenly direct and commanding. "Upstairs, Jim. I want you undressed, completely naked and stretched out on your back. Be ready when I get there." 

Taking orders came easy to an ex-ranger turned cop with a pushy guide with a tongue to die for. Jim slid up the stairs faster and smoother than a military maneuver during inspection. 

Irritating clothes peeled off quickly, a bad memory soon to be replaced by searing pleasure. He groaned at his own impatience as he stretched out on his back, taking his cock, stroking gently to calm the nervous, skittish twitches already starting. 

"Jim, stop that. Put your hands above your head and keep them there. Hang onto the headboard if you need to, but don't touch yourself unless I tell you. Understand?" 

"Yes, Chief." He raised his hands to hold on, to brace himself for the intense breath-crushing ache of arousal that grew between his legs. God, he needed this like lungs needed air, but it scared and consumed him. He couldn't stop. "Touch me, please." 

"When I'm ready, Jim. Now, settle down and breathe slowly. You're about to come and I haven't even started." Jim turned his head and watched as Blair, wearing only a long T-shirt crawled up on the edge of the bed. In his hand he had a box of condoms and a tube of KY jelly. Screaming reflex clenched his asscheeks. 

"Chief?" 

Rubbing his hand down the older man's chest, stroking and soothing, Blair whispered, his voice all husky. "Relax, man. I won't do it if you don't want me to." 

Swallowing hard, wrestling his runaway fear to the ground, he forced the words out. "I've never done that. Never even really thought about having it done to me before." 

"Ever thought of doing it to someone else?" Guiltily he averted his eyes. "Have you?" 

"Yeah." 

"Tell me." The powerful voice didn't snap, but coaxed, demanding compliance. 

"When I first realized I was attracted to you, I wanted to do that." 

"Do what, Jim? Say it. We can't do it, if you can't even say it." 

"I wanted to fuck you." The words rushed out, scared and shaking, exposed like naked secrets on his lips. 

"Fuck me how, Jim?" Hair thrilling his cheek, Blair leaned over to speak lightly, the words easing into his right ear. "Tell me your fantasies, Jim, tell me what you wanted to do to me when no one else could see. Tell me." 

"God, Chief. I can't." Shameful, exciting images pleaded, begged deep within him to go unspoken. 

"Why not? They're just words, Jim. Tell me what you dreamed about alone at night in this bed, or in the morning by yourself in the shower. Tell me, Jim. How would you fuck me?" 

Blair lifted his shirt and straddled Jim's hips, his half-erect cock rubbing up against his own at full arousal. The heat arched his back up off the bed, pain coursing through the over-sensitive region, his whole body inflamed. "It's okay, Jim. Dial it down, just a little. Come on, listen to my voice, man." 

Obedience brought withering hurt down to comfort and back up to tingling and full throttle. "Okay, Jim, I'll give you a choice. Tell me, or I'll show you what I've been wanting to do to your ass since the first time I saw you stuff a pair of jeans three years ago." 

"Then show me, Chief. I want you to." 

Using both hands, Blair placed a palm on each side of his face. Leaning forward he captured his mouth, his tongue forcing past parting lips. Gripping the headboard didn't keep his legs down. Automatically, the thrusting in his mouth matched with the pumping of hips to make contact with the bare-bottom torture teasing his lap. 

"Down, Jim. Be good. Slow breathing for me." Blair pulled back and scooted between the raised thighs, sitting on his own haunches while he spread Jim further apart. Fondling the balls brought on a another round of low moans and after a brief pause, Jim gasped with the entrance of a cool slick finger, searing heaven to his brain, his cock ready to explode already. 

"God, Blair." Each word choked him. No way he could last. Every muscle in his body stretched to outer limits, salty tears leaking past squeezed lids. When his guide took him in his mouth while he finger fucked and touched his prostate, he screamed and then exploded without any hope of recovery. Every nerve cell zapped at once releasing flashes of lightning hot enough to scorch and destroy vast wastelands or to restore life in the empty reaches of his soul. No control contained the spasms that wracked his body, his bones fried to cinder and dust. They turned blood to lava, dissolved to liquid motion, expanding to collect the universes, each contraction a discovery of new worlds. 

Centuries later, when the earth returned to solid form and he could breathe again, he opened his eyes, his body filled with a delicious ache. Blair's blue eyes watched him as he lay on his side, his head supported by an uplifted hand. "Well, I see you're back." 

"Blair." The word conjured magic, a calling to power and ancient forces. 

"Man, I never realized how fast you were off the mark. Bet you were a sprinter." 

"Sorry." But he wasn't, not really, never could be. He licked his lips, drunk with the powerful potion of his guide's touch. "I couldn't help it." 

"I know." Blair petted and soothed his cheek, like taming a willful panther. "It's okay. I enjoyed it, too." 

Scenting the air, he smelled the truth as he wrapped his mind around the rich musk of his guide beside him. "And I missed it?" 

"Don't worry, Jim. You're mine and one of these days if you could try to last more than five minutes, I'm going to fuck you silly." 

"God, I feel pretty damn silly already." 

Pressing his body close, his lips suckling at Jim's nipples, he moaned deep down in his throat. "Not as silly as you're going to be by the time I'm done." Rolling up on top of him again. He smiled, greedy lips bruised and swollen. "You're not even going to know your name when I'm finished." 

"I don't doubt it." His memory never could be trusted, cowardly bastard. 

"Yep, my man Ellison, babbling and screaming like crazy. I guarantee." 

Stretched out, a warm blanket of flesh above him, Jim lay lazy and full of wonder. With the care and protection of Blair's embrace, he could actually risk dreaming. Tangled in love and caresses rather than secrets brought him endurance and survival. Gentle breathing lulled him, pulled him down even further into rest, into a place where his trusted guide led him to his own version of heaven, a place where wild, dangerous creatures couldn't reach, a place, where together they could both be safe. 

The End 


End file.
